


Hanged Men

by snblab



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Hanging, Injury, Julian is a mermaid, Mermaids, Near Death Experiences, OC is a pirate, Pirates, Rating May Change, Shipwrecks, Slow Burn, Sunburn, Swearing, Vesuvia, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2020-08-11 16:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snblab/pseuds/snblab
Summary: Drove to piracy out of necessity and facing the consequences, a young woman finds herself washed up on an abandoned beach somewhere off the coast of Vesuvia. To her last recollection, she was drowning in the ocean. Someone, or something rather, must have saved her. That something was a mermaid. A stunning mermaid with red hair that calls himself Julian in her tongue.





	1. The Tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on making the chapters a bit longer but since this is the first one it's a bit short. No Julian yet but soon.

The devil always collects his debts.

The sister at the orphanage would say that every time a child acted up or did something naughty, to remind them that every sin, every infraction would draw him nearer. She would scare the children into believing that if they did not live good lives, the devil would collect their souls as punishment. Bad luck would follow every ill instance. The children thought the sister insane, interpreting the saying in the literal. They quietly chastised her in closets and corners, sneering at her senile nature. If the devil really did come after the ones who were evil then why did the worst people always prosper? Why did the spoiled, greedy, men and their wives sit atop thrones with golden chalices while they didn’t even have enough wooden plates? From such a young age, all of the children were filled with a pessimistic, misanthropic view of the world. They all wrote off her words as a fear tactic. 

However, she never regretted nor understood that saying more so than she did now, fighting for her life in a losing battle against a tempest and an enemy ship. The deck was slick with rain and blood as the winds howled angrily in her ear. It chanted her demise and laughed cruelly when her foot slid, opening a weak spot in her thigh that quickly was pierced by the enemy’s blade. Her cries were swallowed by the storm, which greedily sucked up all other sounds as well. The pirate attempted to regain her balance and continue the fight but a harsh wave rocked the boat. She slammed heavily against the railing and felt a slight crunch in her side. She bit her lip, tasting metallic in her mouth. Her nose scrunched up in pain.

The pirate had warned her captain, told her that it was going to be a fruitless battle. They were poorly equipped after their failed blundering of the kingdom’s sea-side capital. The attack on Vesuvia had only depleted their already diminished supplies for little gain. After such horrible results, there was no way they could defeat their current, notorious, enemy. The merchant ship waved the kingdom’s flag; it would armed to the teeth. They were out-gunned, out-manned, out-numbered, out-planned. It was a fool’s arrogance to challenge them. Of course, the strong headed captain mocked her words, punishing her arrogance with two lashes. After all, what would a mere scout from Port Tremaine know about naval tactics? The girl’s tuition, however, seemed to be rightly held. 

The pirate was exhausted, not even making a second attempt to clobble to her feet, staying slouched against the creaking and groaning rails. Her ribs and thigh throbbed and pulsed with each jolt of the ship, but even that was going numb from the icy rain. She was no doctor but she knew her prospects dimmed by the second. It was only a matter of time before hypothermia, her wounds, or the sea dragged her under. The pirate choked on a sad laugh and uselessly wiped her wet face with her wet hand. Her hair, though short enough to not touch her shoulders, obscured her eyes, sticking to her neck and face like tentacles. 

A pirate’s end indeed, wasn’t it? Death at sea? It seemed fitting that she, having spent most of her life afraid of the water, would die because of if. Oh, fate was a cruel mistress, even she could even be considered a mistress in the first place. Fate was more like an tormentor; she provided no enjoyment or pleasure with her accompaniment. The pirate closed her eyes when another knock against the ship, from cannon or waves she didn’t know, broke the railing and tumbled her into the churning chaos below. 

The water swarmed her in a frigid shock, tightening her muscles. Panicked, she kicked furiously against the pull into the depths. But which way was up? The ocean was pitch black in the night, the torrential rain only adding to further the sensory confusion. Her arms slugged through the liquid in slowly weakening movements. Her heavy boots only added to the weight that seemed determined to drown her. Ignoring the growing burning sensation in her lungs and wounds, she quickly unbuckled the leather shoes and let them fall, pushing up with all of her might. Finally, her head broke the surface.

Only to be forced under by a crashing wave. Bobbing up again, she tried to see anything but the tempest made it impossible. Light flashed in the sky, gunpowder and iron perforated the air, water drenched everything in sight. Very faintly, she heard the screams and shouts of those still fighting, either an opponent or for their lives. A loud crack thundered across the sea, drawing her attention to her ship. There were many holes in the splintered wood, letting in liters of water quickly. It was going to sink, creating a vortex as it went. The pirate tried to swim away but the stinging in her leg and the pulling of her side let her go only so far. With a loud groan, the ship started to be submerged.

The sister did always say that pirates were of the worst sort, pillaging mercenaries with no sense of moral compass or direction. They were just as bad if not worse than the nobles who ruled the kingdom; pirates actively chose to plunger and raze towns to the ground in the search of selfish and carnal desires. The devil was always waiting for them to return home. Merciless filth, the sister had labelled them. The girl concurred with the title even as it became her profession. She missed the hard and itchy beds, the gnawing hunger in her stomach in comparison to the luxuries she possessed only as a result of robbing and murdering.

In the single instance before her eyes closed, the pirate accepted death. She had spent every moment since she could remember fearing meeting the inevitable shadow, the sister had instilled a healthy fear of the outcome in her. Perhaps, it wouldn’t be any worse than life, which had done her wrong ever since she was young. Maybe, it was a release instead of a sentence. Death couldn’t be colder than the chill that currently encompassed her or hotter than the hours upon hours she was forced to work in the blazing, Prakran sun without rest. The pirate felt her body relax, suspended surreally in the water. There was no more running away. 

After all, the devil did always collect his debts.


	2. Measure for Measure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is Julian in this. Well...a bit, a teeny-tiny bit of him at least.

Her eyes flitted open and instantly snapped shut. It was too hot, too bright. She groaned and lifted a weak hand to shield her face, tentatively peeking through her fingers. Her face contorted as the mid-afternoon sun warmed it. The dryness of her upper body was contrasted by the tiny waves lapping at her bare feet and calves. Against her better judgement, the pirate quickly sat up and promptly upheaved the contents of her stomach. The residue left a bitter and salty taste in her mouth, wrinkling her nose. It was also, in part, to the deep aching of her side. Carefully lifting up the shirt hem, she poked and prodded at the black and blue skin. It hurt, gods did it hurt, but not nearly as much as she remembered broken ribs did. With any luck, they were merely bruised. 

She looked around in concern. Where in the hells was she? For the stretches of blue water she could see in front of her, there was no sign of her or any other ship. Or island. Or any land. Or of anything in general. The small bobbing of waves echoed on until the pigmented horizon. Was she stranded? Twisting her head, she looked both left and right. Rocky shoreline and tan sand ran for as far as her eyes could read but not any farther. Wincing at the tug on her ribs, she turned behind. Sparse trees dotted the sand here and there until it led to a thick and lush jungle. It wasn’t a very large island, but surely there was something she could use. Planting her calloused hands into the warm grains beside her, she hoisted up her water-logged body up. 

Everything was fine until she put weight on her other leg. She screeched and crashed into the sand, hands shaking around the thigh wound she had forgotten about in her frenzied state. It burned. She carelessly ripped the pant leg open and pressed the back of her palm to her lips to keep in the noise and gag. It smelled terrible, like it had already begun to fester. With the salt and exposure and sun, it probably already had. Lifting her ragged shirt to her teeth, she bite it with all her might as she lightly and gingerly prodded the disgusting wound. The blood had congealed but the flesh around it was puffy and bright red. Sickly. Pus crusted along the edges. It was definitely infected. Coughing slightly and dropping the cloth from her mouth, the pirate stared agonizingly at the ocean. 

She dragged her pained body backwards into the water again, desperately avoiding getting sand particles in the open and deep cut. The water was still chilled from what she hoped was only last night’s events. A sigh of relief brushed off her tongue as her hot body cooled off. She didn’t stop until the water was up to her elbows, carefully using her one good leg to lift the poor one out of the water. She took one, two, three deep breaths and lowered the wound into the salty water. 

The pirate let out a heart wrenching sob at the pain, though her tolerance had grown drastically over the years. Her entire body trembled, her leg violently shaking as the blood slowly dissolved and spotted the water. Gasping down more cries, she rested back on her elbows and let the water take its course. Without any medicinal herbs or instruments, it was the best she could do. Gods, she wished she had drowned instead - dying from a festering wound was a lot more prolonged and devastating. Huffing in somewhat controlled breaths, the pirate tried to focus her mind on something else to little success. There weren’t even any gulls that circled and shriek in the air. The air was teasingly quiet as well, leaving only the dull sound of waves crashing onto the beach. The sun was unhelpful in the extreme, drying out her body even more than she was. The pirate had no doubt that her skin was burning. If the infection didn’t end her life, sun poisoning would. 

Numerous minutes later, the pirate decided to move onto the second stage of using nature’s remedies. She deposited heap after heap of mushy sand onto the wound, gasping back moans and shrill grunts. Loudly, she cursed the doctors and quacks that always said to just rub in some dirt. If they were lying and she got off this island, she would hunt them all down and kill them. It was miserable but it did, to the tiniest fraction of a degree, provide some soothing. 

Her trained eyes scanned the island from the new viewpoint. The jungle really was an eclectic group of trees, ferns, and vines. Did anything even live in there? And why in all of the hells was it so far from the water? Moving past for the moment, she looked at the group of rocks she had briefly spotted before. It was much bigger and sharper than she originally realized. The brown and black tips were jagged and blocked her view of whatever may lie behind it. As for now, though, it wouldn’t hold any benefit. The other side was just sand. 

“Damn it.”

There was no other option; she’d have to drag her body all the way into the foliage. It was the only source of relief from the beating sun and, currently, the only opportunity for fresh water and food. Slowly, she spun her body around in the water, seething as the currents irritated the inflamed puncture. Waddling on her palms, she began the backwards ascent over the sand. The process was long, each and every move assiduous. Halfway up the beach, her arms buckled and her back flopped onto the sand. Through her thin and wet shirt, she felt every grain of sand imprint itself onto her back. She could do it, she told herself. Not too much further. Soon, she could just rest. 

Just. A. Bit. Further. 

The second the shade reached her toes, the pirate promptly dropped on the rough ground. The twigs and moss and other assortment of things on the ground were uncomfortable, but the burn of her muscles and everything was even more of a discomfort. 

Wiping the sweat off her brow, she covered her eyes with her forearm. A laugh escaped her. It was a watery cachinnate, borderline manic. Tears spilled down the sides of her face, kissing the skin, as the chortles echoed mirthlessly against the tree. The pirate tried wiping them away but only made a bigger mess of her face. She had heard of people losing their minds at sea but she had never expected the madness to hit her quite so quickly. She couldn’t stop it; the chortles came naturally yet irrationally. A loud splash drew her eyes to the water’s edge, dampening her hysterical state. Twisting ever so cautiously, she faced her entire front to the ocean, searching alertly what caused the noise. The ripples seemed to extend from some measure away from the edge. 

Squinting, she tried to distinguish between the sea foam and waves. Finally, her eyes caught sight of a small black tip. A fin? She leaned forward, only to quickly settle back and let out a sibilant exhale. Casting only a brief glance at the wound, she returned her gaze to the now setting horizon. How that much time really passed? Her eyes widened as another hint of black rose above the blue surface.

“What the…?” her hoarse voice trailed off into dry wheezing. 

Shaking her head, she settled flat onto the ground. The lack of nutrients was causing her to hallucinate. The pirate licked her lips, feeling them very chapped and rough. Her throat felt the same. In fact, she felt unimpressively like a fish left out to dry. Her skin prickled red and pink, and she was acutely aware of how every, single, thing touched her. As twilight settled over the small and isolated island, the pirate watched shadows dance on the canopy above her with bleary and tired eyes. Drifting off into an uneasy sleep, she missed the distant sound of scales on sand. 


	3. Much Ado About Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pirate and Julian finally talk face to face.

The fever set in during the night, her wet and sunburned body sizzling with infection and heat stroke. Once, in the darkest part of the morning, her eyes flickered open to an illusion of something over her. The only thing her hazy vision could clearly distinguish was a mess of dark auburn. Her eyes only stayed alert for approximated seconds before the strain grew too much and they shut for the rest of the time she slept.

When she awoke finally and fully, the pirate had no idea how much time had passed. Dawn lingered at the edge of the world, as if waiting and gauging her reaction before releasing its full might on her. She blinked the dirt, salt, sand, and grit from her eyes. She sat up in haste, searching all she could see for any signs of red. Had it really been her imagination? Her brows furrowed and then slowly released. The pirate glanced down at her skin and leg wound. 

They weren’t hurting.

Rather, there was a cooling paste that seemed to have been smoothed all over her skin. She touched her face to confirm that the clay was, indeed, everywhere. The thick, dried puree was lathered in layers, cracking with her movements. It smelled like washed up kelp but it hid the scent of her own body odor and the wound quite well. Stretching her arms out in front of her body, she tilted and turned them. What in the hells was it? Or better yet, where did it come from? She looked at her wound, which was also covered by the blend and extra wrapped with some sort of leaf. Picking up a large frond beside her, she concluded that it was of the same. This was certainly no coincidence, there must be someone else on the island with her. If anyone were to see the pirate in her current state, they would surely run away or try to kill her.

Licking her lips and grimacing at the muddy taste on her tongue - there was clay covering them too, she tensed her muscles and stood on her one leg, balancing perilously. Ever so gingerly, she placed her left leg flat on the ground, wiggling her toes in the sand to test the strength. When it didn’t immediately cause her to fall, she eased more weight onto the appendage. It held up.

She let out an elated gasp of surprise and wonder. Had she been making a fuss over something that was already healing? The sister always did say that those who complained too much often made ado about nothing. They were just a bunch of hypochondriacs. 

Placing her full weight on the leg, however, seemed too much and it buckled. She fell to her knees, albeit which was better than completely crumbling like last time. She determined that as long as she didn’t place heavy pressure on it or medium for long periods, then she could somewhat walk. Righting herself, the pirate slugged and limped awkwardly towards the sea. She splashed into the saltwater with a merry giggle. It didn’t sting like a swarm of bees this time. The lukewarm water was a gift and she allowed it to wash over her. 

The clay seemed to dissolve the longer she sat in the water. The pirate was sad to see it leave but astounded as to what was under it. Her burned arms and feet and legs were merely a light pastel pink instead of the salmon and coral color from before. What was this sorcery? She scrubbed the paste off her face as well, gaping at the smooth texture of her lips and the cool sensation of her skin. She decided to keep the wound wrapped for now, hoping the magical healing effects would continue. Shaking her head, the pirate still couldn’t believe it. Whoever was on this island must be some sort of magician or world-class doctor to accomplish such feats as healing a festering stab wound in a day?

Wait.

Had it only been a day since she passed out? Truthfully, the pirate had no idea how long ago her ship was attacked and wrecked. When was the last time she had eaten? Drunk? Perhaps even more bizarre than her speedy recovery was the fact that a gnawing hunger was absent from her stomach. Could the stranger have…given her drink and food as well?

She ran a hair through her sticky, tangly, short strands, pondering the likelihood that someone would just take care of her like that. She supposed there were still kind people in the world but they were such a rarity to stumble upon. Eyeing the forest again, she bit her cheek, seeing something she hadn’t before. Partially destroyed by her sloppy footsteps and dragging, was a divet in the ground that led directly to the ocean. It reminded her of the turtle tracks she had seen in Prakra. The turtles lay their eggs up on the beaches, and they have to flop their bulbous bodies all the way there and back. From what the locals had said, it was quite a trying trip. Whatever caused it was big and heavy. Maybe the thing she fuzzily remembered was a turtle. A hairy, red…turtle? 

“Oh gods,” she whispered.

If, in fact, it was a turtle then did she crush the eggs? Perhaps irrationally and a result of her descending madness, she felt bitter tears swell at the thought. Those poor, innocent turtles. The hatching hadn’t even had the chance to develop and she killed them. Merciless and unforgiving as she may be on the deck, she held a strong and intense fondness for animals. She sniffled and laid back completely, drowning out her thoughts with the water rushing in and by her ears. Only her face stayed on the surface. After she got over her initial fear of water, it was quite pleasant to listen to. 

The pirate was so relaxed that she didn’t notice a series of pops and clicks and warbly tones that drifted with the waves. Nor did she realized that the sun had stopped shining on her face. Her reverie was only broken with a plop of water on her nose. Then one on her right cheek. Then one on her lips. She scrunched up her features and reluctantly opened her eyes.

Her breath caught as she stared straight into a pair of grey eyes.

The pirate screamed loudly and pushed harshly against a hard chest, scooching away from the being. In her franticism, she tripped over her injured leg and crashed into the sand and water. Not missing a beat, she scuffled fully onto the sand, chest heaving up and down. 

“Get the hell away from me. Who are you and what do you want?” she demanded.

The thing never came closer, rather, took several steps back, hands up in submission. She stared. Turns out it wasn’t so much a “thing” as a man. He avoided her eyes, a rogue blushing painted his cheeks, several shades lighter than his hair. Wait? Auburn hair. Was he…could he be the one that helped her? Her caution stayed high and alert but her fear dimmed slightly. The strange man seemed to be babbling in some language. Seeing her confusion, he switched to a new one.

It took four different tries until she could finally understand anything he said.

“Wait, I can understand that one,” she called out. He looked relieved.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His voice betrayed his embarrassment and nervousness.

“Answer my question,” the pirate prompted. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“I suppose in your language you would call me Julian. What is your name?”

She hesitated and eyed him up and down. He was slim and lean but had an admirable set of defined muscles. If he really wanted to, he could easily overpower her. It would probably be best to comply even if he seemed innocent.

“Eilen,” she mumbled begrudgingly. She felt acutely away of her damp and translucent shirt. “Did you…um…were you the one who healed me?” she asked. Her eyes were sharp with intent.

The flush covered his neck and he rubbed it, nodding. “You were very sick, so I took it upon myself to make sure you recovered.”

She swallowed. “Thank you. Uh…,” the conversation, in her mind, was awkward on so many degrees. For one, they didn’t know each other at all. For two, he was half naked (at least) in the water and her clothes didn’t provide much hiding. Eilen sucked on her lower lip in thought. 

“How can I…uh…pay you back?” she offered inelegantly. 

The man or, rather, Julian—she supposed she should call him by his chosen name—thought and smirked, about to answer when she cut him off with yet another question.

“Wait, wait, wait. Why are you in the water, half naked? How are you so deep anyways? Is there a drop off right there? ” she remarked, finally standing up and taking steps closer, her curiosity shoving her shyness away. She wadded slightly into the water, knee-deep, though he was still at least fifteen feet away. Julian rushed back. The water swirled with his quick movement.

“You should rest,” he said, finally meeting her blue gaze. A smug smile slid over his features. “You’ll get burnt again if you’re not careful.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” she defended immediately, slipping into an air of familiarity. Her arms crossed over her chest. “Besides,” Eilen looked over her shoulder at the shaded ground, “it’s hardly a walk from…here…”

She blinked at the open water in front of her. Julian was nowhere in sight, a small ripple the only proof of his existence in the first place. Her mouth dropped and she limped up to her mid thighs, searching the brown and blue ocean for any sign of him. There was none. Eilen exhaled a small noise of disbelief.

“Okay, then,” she drawled.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she slowly left the water sat under the swaying shadows, eyes trained on the water. She didn’t see any speck of red.

Strange.


	4. The Comedy of Errors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No face to face interaction per say, but there is some touching and skin contact ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° )

Eilen stubbornly sat for hours on end, waiting for that weird Julian to arrive again. The sky was starting to shift from its bright blue to subdued purples and oranges when her patience finally broke. Grumbling, she stood up, using a tree for help. The grumbling of her stomach and parchedness of her throat made a full force return. There had to be some sort of fresh water and food on this forsaken island of Julian would have died long before her. However, the creaks and cries of animals were few and far in between. 

Wobbling into the jungle, Eilen searched every fern, every rock, every tree for something. There was absolutely nothing and she yelled obscenities that the sister would surely die upon hearing. She seethed and continued her erroneous trip - she tripped on a rock…and then a broken tree branch…and then a palm all in a matter of ten minutes. Gods know it wasn’t worth the hassle and frustration and she headed back when the moon laughed at her mistakes. Huffing, she eased herself onto the sand. 

She tossed down the sticks she collected, possibly the only upside of her tumble through the forest. Eilen’s blue eyes flickered to the pile of sand at the end of the turtle tracks. She was very careful to not step in or near it again. She glanced at the small twigs near her and smiled as an idea struck her brain. Gathering them in hand and snapping a few of the thinner branches, she scooted on her knees to the pile. 

With the precision of a practiced pâtissière, Eilen placed the sticks around the pile delicately. She made the space in between them large enough that, should the baby turtles actually hatch under her hope that she didn’t kill them, they could crawl through them without too much hassle. Also, it would prevent her from accidentally stepping on them again. She tugged her knees into her chest, swallowing the slight throb that accompanied the movement, as she kept her eyes on the sand pile. They would be adorable, crawling over each other, pathetic yet cute. She would protect them until they reached the sea and even then some.

She had said it before, but animals were a weakness of hers. Probably her biggest one at that. Back in the orphanage, the sister never allowed pets but all of the children had essentially adopted a stray cat they had found in a nearby alleyway. Her features soured ever so slightly as she remembered the name one of the oldest girls had given it: Pepi. Out of the infinite names to choose for a cat, she chose Pepi? It wasn’t the worst, but Eilen always called it something different in private. Juniper. Unripe juniper berries were the exact shade as the cat’s stunning irises, such a pale, ice blue. She wondered what happened to the animal after she ran away. 

She clutched her knees even closer to her chest and the light faded from her face. How long had it been since she left Port Tremaine? How many more since the orphanage? Did Molly grow up to be proud of her unruly ginger hair and freckles or did Andre’s words stick with her? Was Jean still hoping to be an actor or did he go into law like the sister always told him to? She often wondered if she made the wrong choice, joining the pirate crew. Not that she really had a decision in the first place, but could she have abandoned the ship early on? Eilen knew she reminisced on the past too much, a habit she had never left behind. Never forget, possibly forgive. She carried her scars and grudges with her for long distances even if they dragged for the duration.

She rested her elbows on her knees and pressed the heel of her hand to her eyes, rubbing the memories and guilt from her. They drew past her cheeks and knotted under her chin. She resumed a contemplative posture and watched the stars wink at her from their prison, an eternity away. She loved stars—visible for only half of the day but present for all of it, much like how she felt in her own life. 

Eilen was going much too deep into the semantics of living and laughed at herself. Oh look at her, a pirate shipwrecked on an abandoned island in the middle of an island, slowly dying from thirst and hunger, crippled by a stab wound, ranting about stars and animals? If one’s dying, might as well die philosophical and poetic. Life was naught but a comedy for someone else anyways. 

She laughed at herself again and closed her eyes, hoping for sleep to take quickly. For once that day, it conceded to help her, and Eilen was snoring silently in no time. 

Luckily for Julian, she was already asleep by the time he visited the surface again. He watched her from afar, drinking in her, decidedly, rough and haggard appearance. He was thankful that techniques they used on themselves also worked on that human - her sunburns were blistering when he originally slathered the medicinal clay on it. He was less than impressed that she had washed off her arms and face, though her skin was showing incredible recovery. Julian was happy that she seemed to possess some intelligence and kept the bandage on her leg in tact. 

As he stared at her, he couldn’t help but chuckle at their unintentional interaction. She was a spitfire, distrustful and curious. Like a cat. His cheeks rouged and he shook the thoughts away. Julian reminded himself that she was simply a human in distress (she didn’t exactly fit the damsel mold). Using the path he had made previously, he dragged his body ashore. The feeling of the grain grating against his scales was uncomfortable to say the least and his face wore and displeased expression. He paused at the pile of sand that had been the product of his efforts. Eilen, if he remembered correctly, seemed to have placed…warding sticks around it?

Strange human. They did the most bizarre things. Scooting around the ritual sight, he leaned closer to her. She wasn’t the first human he had seen, but the first up close. Last time, he had been so preoccupied with tending her wounds that he hadn’t spared her much attention. Now, however, with the redness mostly subsided, she was…indescribable. Ever so light, like a butterfly’s kiss, he touched her cheek. Her skin was so tan compared to his ivory hand. So dry, too. Could she be one of the people that ride on those wooden contraptions? He believed the correct term was ship in her language. 

He carefully picked up her hand, glancing at her face for signs of waking every second. He analyzed it with a critical and trained eye, trying to memorize the details to add to his drawings and diagrams. Somewhat like his, there was minimal webbing between fingers. Instead of reaching the second knuckle, it stopped before. Other than that, their hand structures were the same. Well, hers was a miniaturized. It was true that Julian was blessed with size and strength, especially when next to his family, but her hand seemed particularly petite. Cute. His brows furrowed, however, when he felt along the ridges on her palm. Where those natural or the result of repetitious injury? He warranted it was the second.

“Clumsy human,” he chastised.

Next, he examined her feet, arguably the most exciting part of a human. Gently holding the foot in between his long and spindly but capable fingers, he counted the number of toes. Ten in total, the same amount as fingers. It was a nice symmetrical feature. He maneuvered the limb so that the sole was facing him. She was much less intimidating when she looked like a child. He dragged his fingers from tip to heel, testing the skin texture.

Eilen moaned—or was it a giggle?—and tossed in her sleep, curling up and simultaneously moving closer to the sense of warmth. Julian froze, grey eyes wide. He stayed completely still until he was positive she was soundly back in the abyss. Release a tense breath, he prepared for the journey back, lifting up his long tail and scooching back until he could turn around. It took close to ten minutes to finally be back safely in the sea. Julian cast his stare at the sleeping human once more, his roguish personality surfacing.

His sharp canine glinted in the moonlight as he smirked at Eilen. “Sweet dreams, darling.”

Julian dove back into the water, racing toward the unknown depths. She would be a very interesting specimen to work with. Of course, it was only in the name of scientific discovery and pursuit, he reminded himself. But no matter, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

~~~

“What in the bloody hells? How many breeding turtles are there and why can’t they find another spot?” Eilen shouted into the emptiness when she saw the new pile of sand directly next to the one from before. She groaned in misery. What a lovely start to a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say there was skin contact, just of the innocent kind.


	5. The Quality of Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ran out of Shakespearean play titles I liked, so I'll be adding in some of his poem titles instead. 
> 
> Warning: Language (like one word)

A

After Eilen set up, yet again, sticks around the new turtle nest, she walked to the ocean. Needless to say, after days of pain in her thigh, she was elated to finally be able to put nearly all of her weight on it and not crumble. Feeling happy with whatever salve Julian had poured and wrapped on her wound, she felt comfortable taking the frond off and looking at it. She held her breath as her fingers shakily exposed the skin that hadn’t seen light in at least two days. Carefully, she scooped up the saltwater and poured it on the clay, washing it away until it revealed its treasure. Eilen shook her head in disbelief. 

“Unbelievable,” she whispered, leaning closer to analyze it.

It must have been a miracle; she had no other logical explanation for it. The puncture, which definitely touched her muscle and possibly even deeper, was no more than a red scab and pink scar. Her fingers lightly trailed its length, hypnotized. She dragged her other hand roughly through her knotted and ragged hair, quickly reaching the end. If Julian’s medicinal knowledge was this advanced, could he cure the plague?

Water sprayed as she splashed about the shallows. Her movements were jerky and excited. Her face was alight with hope, a feeling grown distant in the past years. She yelled out his name, eyes trailing the echoing syllables. There was no response but the breeze ruffling the trees. She dashed back onto dry land and started to search the forest.

“Julian!” she continued to call. 

After the twenty-third time, her joy had dimmed significantly, frustration replacing it gladly. Where could he even be? Eilen clucked her tongue in annoyance, meandering aimlessly around the forest. As she trekked, her noted that there were no signs of any inhabitance - no foot trails, no unnaturally broken branches or moved sticks, no living quarters. No, everything seemed untouched except what her hand laid on or her foot broke. As she went deeper into the jungle, the more it seemed truly uncharted. The light grew darker and the green even brighter with each step.

However, she stopped still suddenly, blue gaze straight ahead. A small pool of blue-green water stood hidden by thick, plush foliage. It seemed something right out that forbidden garden the sister always talked about. Oh so tempting, and gods know Eilen was never good at resisting temptation. She fell to her knees at the lip of the pool and broke the calm reflection with a hasty hand. Cupping the water, she brought it to her cracked lips and drank. Gods, she nearly cried with relief. Eilen had been suppressing her natural and essential need of water and food in case there wasn’t any, but she must have done something right to flounder upon such a sight. What were the odds of a fresh (or at least, mostly fresh) water pool in an untouched, small island somewhere off the coast of Vesuvia?

Greedily, she gulped the water, droplets dripping down her chin and neck. Eilen also used it to splash her face. She scrubbed at the grime, grit, sand, and dirt, carefully not contaminating her only source of drinking water. Unfortunately, life on a pirate deck meant only cleaning oneself when it rained. What she wouldn’t do to actually take a bath in one of those fancy tubs with salts and things for hair and skin that the nobles always spoke about. For now, however, she’d enjoy her luck. 

Eilen sat on the back of her heels, running her damp hands through her hair. Quenching one essential need led to a fierce growling of the other. She needed food. When was the last time she remembered eating something? Maybe Julian fed her when he treated her wounds but that was still at least a day ago. However, she was tired. She fell back and contemplated just staying there until the plants grew over her. 

Hours passed and the sun was about to begin its descent. Eilen really had no care in the world; she stayed by the pool and rested. Her nap was possibly the best she had ever taken since she was a toddler. If there were indeed gods in this world or any supernatural forces, then they were rather merciful to her today. Except for the grating shouting of her name repeatedly. Her frustration turned into a bit of sadistic pleasure as she listened to the sweet anguish that tinted Julian’s distant voice. Call it pettiness or revenge, but Eilen was miffed that only now he was responding to her yells. She let a small smile slide onto her lips as his voice strained with each new cry. 

With a loud sigh, she stood up and brushed off the leaves and dirt before trudging loudly back to the beach. Her face was soured and unpleasant when she caught sight of the half-naked redhead. Her feet sank into the hot sand as she approached the sea foam, stopping just before it could touch her toes. She crouched so she could look him in the eye.

“What do you want?” she asked, unamused. Glancing down, she followed up with, “And why are you always in the water?”

Tempering the red that threatened to tinge his ears, he put on a debonair smile, amping up his supposed charm. Ignoring her second question, he said, “I heard that you were calling for me.”

“Yes. Several hours ago.” Her dry response made his cockiness falter. Eilen sighed again and her face lost its hardness. “Do you know where I can get some food? I don’t know when the last time I ate was. I just drank from that pool in the middle of the island.” Her blue eyes glinted with sarcasm. “Thanks for letting me know that was there before I died of thirst.”

“Would you really?” Julian asked, drifting forward in the water, eyes large.

“Would I really what?”

“Die,” he clarified.

“From not getting water and food?” Eilen looked at him in disbelief. “Uh, yeah. Humans need food and water to live.”

Julian seemed contemplative, muttering in another language. Eilen watched, suddenly uneasy. Why was he acting like he didn’t know this? She kept her eyes locked on him while her hand carefully picked up a small stone. She clenched it tightly in her fingers. 

“Julian.” His grey eyes flickered to her seemingly innocent face, curious and bright. “What is your vocation?”

“I’m a doctor.”

Eilen hummed. A doctor who didn’t know that she needed food and water to live? Unlikely. However, he did display a mastery of knowledge of some sort when he healed her wounds. Her gaze travelled the length of his defined torso and face. Like the other time she saw him, only his upper body was visible and his red hair was damp. Who…or maybe…what was he exactly?

“So Julian,” the man tensed at the tone in her voice, so different than before. “If you really are a doctor, how do you not know that I need water and food to live? Explain how you didn’t know that but you could cure my wounds.”

Now he eyed her suspiciously. He didn’t portray his shy or cocky faces, his more ruthless side making an appearance. 

“I’m not that type of doctor,” he chose his words carefully.

His attempts to assuage the pirate failed miserably. Eilen stood up, looking down at him in the water. She kept the rock in her grasp. Any amiable atmosphere they maintained in their two previous interactions had crumbled to dust. 

“So what kind of doctor are you?”

He didn’t answer, just bobbed slightly up and down in the water.

“Get out of the water,” Eilen demanded.

Julian huffed and crossed his arms, unenthused. “I think not,” he declined.

The rock was sharp on the sides, and it cut into her fingers as they squeezed. Against her better judgement, Eilen reacted impulsively to his refusal. Years of living with pirates and a life of distrusting those who couldn’t respond forced a reflex. In a blink of an eye, she launched the stone at Julian. Eilen held her breath as he dove into the water, unsure if her throw made contact or not. Soon, though, that thought fled her mind and lost its entire existence.

Trailing after his body was an expected splash of water and foam. Also trailing was a large, shimmering black fin. Eilen fell back in shock and pushed away from the water in terror. No, no, no, no, that can’t be possible. Mermaids weren’t real, they couldn’t be. 

“What in all seven hells?” she asked the empty air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, I'm off to college soon (for the first time ever - oh fuck) so I don't know how often I can update. I will do my best, but Julian's personality is really had to master. I have a plot planned but its trying to get to the parts I know I can write that takes up the most time. 
> 
> ON the other hand, any tips for college or how to improve my writing? ;D


	6. The Twelfth Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> College has been rough so I haven't been able to update or write. I've already decided on changing my major (if that gives you any indication of the status of life right now). Nonetheless, here is one development. I hope you enjoy.

She avoided the ocean with a fervent passion, never going any closer than the edge of the forest, for six days. Each evening, she was almost tempted to see if that creature was back but her desire for life reminded her of otherwise. In her self-driven isolation, she felt the pressure of her situation hit her fully. Eilen had a somewhat fresh water source to drink but, as she found in her first week on the island, food was scarce. There were small assortments of beetles and she found one set of edible berries (though the discovery cost her a full three days of nausea and hacking up sick from eating slightly less edible plants). If she was honest, her situation was grim.

Eilen was thoroughly convinced that the gods hated her, that she had committed some terrible, unforgivable sin earlier in this life or in another. They had saved her from drowning only to laugh as she starved to death or was manipulated by a mermaid and dragged to the bottom of the sea. Both fates were more gruesome and fearful than drowning. She gazed disdainfully into the pool, cursing them in her head. Had Julian only been healing her so that she would be healthy enough to kill?

But…he didn’t feel threatening, not like the pirates on her deck or the people she met at the ports. He felt genuine in their two, albeit small, interactions. Eilen bit her cheek but stuck with her gut. The sister did always tell them it was better to be safe than sorry. Dedicating her mind to this philosophy, she continued to stay away from the salt water. 

But on that seventh day, she felt terrible ill. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She felt weak and worse than when she was throwing up the poisonous berries. Her vision blurred with every other movement. Her head felt suffocated and high. It was a disconnect and yet strong realization that her body was decaying in one way or another. Eilen struggled to breath but each inhale through the nose was blocked and every intake through her lungs was rejected. She stumbled through the trees, shivers wracking her body and fever searing it. Her delirium both hid and exacerbated the pain. 

Everything was too loud, too bright, too much. Eilen reached up and pressed her dirty palms to her ears, desperately trying to block out the sound. The ocean waves crashed around her mind. She moaned quietly at the pressure, while her feet took her in an unknown direction, her eyes closed. The sounds only seemed louder and her eyes only opened when her bare foot caught on something rough and sharp. She braced herself clumsily, the abrasive surface cutting her forearms as well. 

She was on the rocks that bordered the ocean. It was probably the only part of the island she hadn’t explored. The part of the island she didn’t want to explore. She sat up, still dazed, delusional, and unaware of the new blood on her skin, and stared at the dark waves on the other side of the jagged platform. Alluring, devilishly beckoning her into the white foam. She leaned forward, head over the edge. The short and dirty strands of hair whipped with the aggression of the sea spray. The tips were soaked in hardly any time and, yet, Eilen found that she couldn’t move. She shifted her body weight clumsily, dragging herself closer. She wanted to touch the water, her addled brain not recognize the screaming dangers.

She extended one shaky and paandhand, but it was centimeters too short.

She stretched, and her body fell over the rocks.

Eilen barely felt the searing cold that engulfed her form until it woke her from her sick daze. She panicked, the darkness and current overwhelming. Her childhood fear crashed back into her, heightened by her last experience in water. She kicked at the depths, like she had done on the night of the shipwreck, but her body was pulled violently from side to side. A tight grip around her waist steadied her body. Her head burst above water, simultaneously gasping for air and coughing out water. Her eyes were shut from such hacking. She wrapped her arms tightly around what was holding her up, which felt suspiciously like a lithe but muscular torso and neck. She ignored how the body stiffened upon the touch, preoccupied with the waves that lapped angrily at her chest and back.

“Please,” she pleaded incoherently. “Please don’t let me go.”

“Shh,” the voice felt distant but familiar. She couldn’t tell, her head pounded too harshly. “I’ve got you.”

Her consciousness faded in and out inconsistently, but she grasped at the feeling of water gliding by, moving from the rough spray to a gentle bob. Soon, she felt sand on her back and sun in her eyes. She groaned at the light and let go of the neck with one hand to shield her face away. However, her hand dropped when a larger mass blocked out the sun. Eilen grabbed onto him again.

“Don’t leave, Julian.” The name had slipped out unintentionally but she knew it was right. She relished in the water droplets that fell off his chest, content to just stay as it was. However, she opened her eyes and say that telltale hazy outline. It was Julian, and he stared at her with concern. He felt a tentative palm against her forehead and cheeks. She was burning up. 

He frowned. How had she caught a fever and it developed into this raging sickness so quickly? He gently sat her up, keeping her rested against his body. It was an awkward position, his long tail making it difficult to move and maneuver, but he managed to get her head on his lower chest, her body angled slightly. He brushed her hair back from her face and carefully peeled her shirt away from her chest. He paused and blushed at some of the things he saw, but he mainly kept his attention on the red rash decorating her collarbone. 

Eilen had not been the first person marooned on that island. Julian had watched men from a distance succumb slowly to madness and starvation and thirst but also to poison, he concluded. There must be some plant on the island whose toxins were too much for human bodies to handle. That was the best hypothesis he could come up with to explain their slow but painful deaths. 

Julian pushed back his own hair with his long, spindly fingers, mind racing rapidly. Without knowing exactly what was causing her sickness, he couldn’t diagnose it? Could he? He gasped loudly. He cupped her burning cheeks with both hands and tilted her head back and forth, apologizing quietly for her discomfort. Yes, yes, that could work. He clumsily shifted his torso to lay her body on the sand next to him. She clutched at him, surprising him with the intensity and speed of her grip.

“Don’t go,” she rasped, mind still in a foggy mess.

He gently pried the fingers off his arm. “Eilen,” he fished for a response. She weakly moaned. “I’ll be back. I’ll bring medicine. Just sit and rest, but don’t fall asleep.”

“Why?”

The question faint question brushed his ears just before he could dive back into the water.

“Because…because…”—you don’t deserve to die—“I want to prove that I’m not going to kill you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond or himself to hear a response as water flooded his ears and he swam swiftly away from the island. He hoped with desperation that his theory would work, that it could cure the sickness. He rushed to the underwater city of Nevivron, thriving though somewhat unruly, and burst into his study. He tore through his desk, objects flying through the water and then gently drifting to the ground. Finally, his eyes caught the recipe. He gathered the herbs with urgency, mixing and stirring and smashing them together. Perhaps it was not the most clean or effective or professional way to prepare the elixir, but it was the quickest and Eilen’s time was running low. The second the solution was finalized, he carefully poured the liquid into a glass. Since it was heavier than water, it sank slowly. He capped it quickly and raced back to the surface. 

He immediately spotted her imobile form, fear gripping his stomach seemingly irrationally. Truthfully, he didn’t know why he wanted her to live so badly, but he did. He dragged himself onto the sand, holding the bottle precariously in one hand. He hauled himself to her side and stared at her. Her rash was an angrier red and it travelled up her neck, as he had seen on the bodies of the others. It seemed this poison remained dormant for some time and then quickly escalated in a matter of hours. He lifted her body up once again, leaning it against his. 

“Eilen,” he prompted. Her eyes remained closed. “Eilen.”

There was no response, but it didn’t deter him. His professional expertise reared its head as he tipped her head back and parted her lips. Carefully, he uncapped the elixir and slowly poured it down her throat, making sure she didn’t choke or spit any of it up. And then he waited.

He had no idea if this was going to work or how long it took to heal her or if she was even going to survive. He waited on edge as the minutes ticked by and the sun started its descent, painting the sky purple as it went. There was no change in her condition except a rasping in her breathing. It appeared that the potion had only stagnated the effects, not cure them. 

He combed through his hair with long fingers. What else could he do? Based on her symptoms, that potion was supposed to work. Did humans have different immune systems and reactions? His tail splashed the water angrily, the spray sprinkling Eilen’s ankles. She didn’t react.

He swore in his native language, a rare action for him. He placed the back of his cold and wet palm against her cheek. It was still burning. Another expletive. As the day dwindled so did his hope and her life. 

There was one method, he remembered, that he could use. It was dangerous but it might work since the potion didn’t it. It was a last resort option but she was going to die if he didn’t.

Julian lifted up her shirt from the hem and placed his hand on her stomach. His fingers almost stretched the length of her skin, and he could feel all of her ribs. It lethargically bounced up and down with her faint breaths. He inhaled deeply and concentrated on her sickness. 

It started slowly and grew into a maelstrom. He felt his temperature increase by several degrees while his insides tightened and ached with fervor. His throat grew scratchy and his muscles weak. He almost dropped Eilen. Gods, no wonder she was unconscious. However, he continued to take on her sickness, and her redness receded bit by bit.

As the pressure from her head and body disappeared, she opened her eyes. It took seconds for the blurriness to evaporate but she gaped at the sight in front of her. The mermaid was holding her, himself looking horrible. A red rash decorated his upper torso and neck. But that wasn’t the strangest thing. A small but intricate, glowing white symbol was imprinted on his jugular. Her unfurled fingers brushed against it, and he jumped at the touch.

“What the hell? Julian, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice groggy but not nearly as bad as it was. 

He didn’t speak until he had finished absorbing her sickness, the process taking a large toll on his body. He laid her down gently but flopped ungracefully onto the sand. Her eyes widened and she struggled to his side, now being the one atop the other. Her attention was captured by his long, black tail, the sun and water reflecting off it magnanimously, but a hacking cough brought it back. 

“What did you do? What happened?” She placed her hand on his cheeks and his chest like he had done to her. He pried her fingers away.

“I’ll be fine. Just let me rest.”

“Why did you save me?”

He was already resting, so she was kept in suspense. Eilen wobbled to her feet, debating running away. But…every time she tried to move her feet, she couldn’t. She may be a pirate but she had a conscience. She popped onto the beach with a huff and an uneasy glance at the mermaid. She took his nap as time to look over his body. He would have been tall if he had been a human, she concluded. His torso was long and lithe, but his tail was over two meters long itself, pushing on three. She quickly looked away from the fin, feeling uncomfortable. She tugged in her knees and waited, keeping watch, as the sun waved goodbye.    
  



	7. The Phoenix and the Turtle

Julian slept dead to the world for hours, until the moon was casting a dying glow upon the forsaken island and even more forsaken pirate. Eilen kept herself busy by counting the stars once she realized that his ‘nap’ was going to be longer than her normal sleep. She didn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been forced to wake up at the crack of dawn. Both the sister and her captain were sticklers for being productive, or at least, seeming productive. 

She felt the tug of sleep pull on her own mind, lulling her through the waves, when a groggy and husky moan came from the sleeping beauty, She turned to watch him open his eyes and stare at the clear sky, watching the emotions run from incomprehension to awe to confusion. Eilen waited patiently for him to gain some bearing of his surroundings. In the morning moonlight, his hair looked like fire instead of the wet and deep burgundy it usually was. It was fluffy too. She bit her cheek; she wanted to run her hands through it to see if it was real. 

He was taking his time, too long for her taste, so she knocked against his shoulder lightly. He twitched violently at the touch but relaxed when he took her in. Eilen knew she looked like she had been to all of the hells and bad, but he looked even more. Who knows? Maybe he did visit the hells and come back with what that magic thing was. 

“You wanna go first or me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You’re a damned mermaid that instead of killing me saved me some strange magic.” Her hands emphasized her point. “What the hell am I supposed to make of that?”

He looked like he wanted to swim away from her, dive back into the water and never rise to the surface again. He met her gaze, hesitant, and shifted on the rough sand.

“Mermaids don’t kill people.”

“What?”

“Mermaids don’t kill people. Sirens do. And Resulkas are something completely different. We all look the same so it’s a common misconception.”

“It’d only be a common misconception if enough people actually knew you existed,” she refuted bitterly. She had always wanted to believe in such creatures but dreams were best left in the mind. She had tried to live out some of them only for it all to accumulate to her situation now. And now, he was proof that she was right and had wasted her early life needlessly. “So which one are you?”

“I’m a mermaid. Sirens and Resulka’s don’t live in this climate. Sirens to the south, Resulka’s to the far north.”

“But you…don’t kill humans?”

“No.” The blunt answer was reinforced by a strong and vehement denial. He was almost pleading for her to believe him. She wasn’t sure if she trusted him yet, but after everything he had done for her, she at least owed him a listening ear.

“Why did you save me?”

He wrung his hands together but stared her down. Now sitting up, he was much taller than her. She wasn’t small persay, but he was a mythical creature. “I’m a doctor,” he started. “In my…town, you can say, I treat mermaids who are sick and dying. I occasionally come up to the island for herbs and other ingredients. I saw you were hurt and felt compelled to help.” He grinned despite the situation. “Shouldn’t you be thanking me instead of interrogating?”

“No one does things out of kindness. They always want something in return.” Her lips didn’t even twitch.

“Is that what you think?” His tail splashed in the water agitatedly. 

“That’s what I know.”

“Like I’ve said before, I’m a doctor and it’s my job to help people, and that includes humans.” 

Eilen almost felt ashamed at the passion in his voice. He truly meant it, didn’t he? He was a mermaid, and, instead of drowning her, saved her from sunstroke, from infection, from the water, from death. Comparatively, she was the monster in this situation. She lied and robbed and killed and plundered for a living. It didn’t matter how she was forced initially into the lifestyle, she continued to stay in it. She glared at the ocean but the intensity softened after a few minutes.

“What’s it like out there?”

“Where—oh the ocean? It’s beautiful. It’s very different than on land.” Julian wisely switched topics too and smiled fondly at the waves. “It’s home.”

“What do you call it? Where do you live? Colony, city, whatever.”

“Nevivron. ‘City’ is probably the best classification for it. Where do you live?”

“I’ve been at sea for a long time.” Julian noticed the pain flash across her face. “But I used to live in Port Tremaine. It’s a small town northeast of Vesuvia. What’s Neeviven like?”

He chuckled at her pronunciation and her ears tinged red. “Nevivon is one of the smaller communities in this ocean. I enjoy it immensely. It’s—” he spouted several unintelligible words. It was only then that Eilen realized that the languages of mermaids probably were different than the languages of men.

“I suppose this isn’t your native language then? I’ve never heard of any word like ‘Nevivon’ and everything else you just said.”

He shook his head. “I can speak seven tongues. My native language is rather…difficult for humans to pronounce well.”

“So is Julian not your real name?” 

“In my language, my name Ilya Devorak.”

Eilen quickly gave up trying to pronounce the foreign syllables. “You have a nickname?”

He laughed gaily and loudly. He tried to quieten his chuckles at her displeasure but it was difficult. “Ilya, but Julian’s just fine. Well, isn’t this all fine and dandy. We’re learning so much about each other.” His theatrics raised a giggle in Eilen’s throat. She never imagined mermaids to be dramatic, but maybe he was an exception. Julian felt pleased with himself. “What about you Eilen?”

“What about me?”

“What do you do?”

Shame flooded back into her face. “I belonged to a crew. A pirate crew.”

Now it was his turn for the smile to drop and the shields to rise. Pirates. He had heard how many hunted down mermaids for money and amusement. They were a terrible sort of human. He had met several mermaids during his medical study in the waters by Prakra and in the ocean to the west that had been hunted and affected by piracy. How had he not originally thought of that as an explanation to her predicament?

But he couldn’t picture her in that position, even given the little time they had interacted. She was much different than the stories always spoke of—harsh, despicable, cruel. She may be a bit crude and cautious but not evil.

“Why?”

Eyes went wide and hair flew as her head turned. What was that reaction? “What? What do you mean why?”

“Why did you become a pirate?”

“It’s complicated.”

“We’ve got time.” Eilen looked away from him determinedly. His voice had lowered a pitch and dipped into seductive, whether it was intentional or not. “Unless you’re tired,” he added, looking at the fading moon.

“I should be asking you that. You did something with magic and were out for hours.”

“I assure you, my health is optimal.” He spread his hands wide and leaned back, exposing his chest. “You can check if you want.”

She resisted the urge to hit him and sighed heavily. “I lived in an orphanage. Since birth until I ran away. One of the kids there, younger than me by a few years—maybe three or four—messed with the wrong people. I said I would take his place and was forced to serve on the ship. I didn’t know it was a pirate crew at first.” She shrugged as if it didn’t bother her still. “I was young and stupid.”

Eilen knew he was looking at her with pity and clutched at the sand. She had outgrown pity.He shouldn’t be sad about it; most people were disgusted and horrified. She was at herself, too. 

“I’m sorry,” she switched the topics once more. “For how I acted last time we talked. I was rude and accusatory. You hadn’t done anything but help me.”

“Ah, but that is simply human nature, I suppose,” Julian tried a joke. She rolled her eyes at him.

“Truce. You might be the last person I see before I die on this island,” she said. Eilen stuck out her hand.

He nodded and struck the bargain just as the sun broke the surface of the world. “Truce.”

They watched it rise together, at peace for the first time in two hectic weeks. Normally, the thirteenth day would be horrible, but maybe, just maybe, Eilen had beaten the odds. She smiled at the thought and Julian over once more. His bright auburn hair looked even redder than it had in the moonlight, bordering on the appearance of a flame. It highlighted his natural orange and burgundy stripes. She quickly glossed over his well-toned chest and looked at his glossy black tail one last time. The sand tracks caught her eyes and her mind.

“Say Julian, are there turtles around here?”


	8. The Other Two: Slight Air and Purging Fire

To Eilen’s dismay, Julian only guffawed and tearfully explained the absence of turtles this far south and east. When she pointed out the sand that led up to the jungle and the mound and the similarities to turtle tracks she had heard about in Prakra, he was borderline wheezing. When he was able to speak, he explained that it was just him, that there were no turtles. She didn’t know whether to be happy that she hadn’t accidentally killed any or sad that she’d never see them. 

However, the mood turned awkward and bleak when they both realized that they were terrible at starting new conversations. Particularly with a stranger, who so happened to be a mermaid that so happened to have saved her life on two separate occasions, and who she just told her life story to. She rubbed the back of her neck, wrinkling her nose at how brittle and nasty her hair felt against the back of her hand.

“So…Julian, you said you were a doctor, right?”

“Of a sorts, yes. I do believe we’ve established that.” His smile faded as his teasing fell short, and Eilen’s mouth dropped.

“How much do you know about human diseases?”

“Not much, I’m afraid, as clearly demonstrated by my fail at a first attempt to stop the poison.” She frowned and was about to ask when, when he quickly continued. “Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering if you knew anything about the Red Plague?”

“The Red Plague?” He hadn’t heard of it, but from the look on Eilen’s face, it must have been terrible.

“It started out of nowhere but it’s gotten the highest death rate so far, if the rumors are true. It’s horrible. People get sick suddenly—they throw up and their eyes become bright red. They die quickly too, it generally only takes two or three days once the symptoms show up.” She bit her cheek. “No one’s found a cure and I didn’t know if mermaids had some sort of advanced medicinal knowledge or healing magic or something. I guess not.”

Julian paused and contemplated his question. He decided not to and only stared at her face. She glanced over and was taken about by the emotions in them.

“What?”

“I…,” he stopped. He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

But she understood what he was trying to get across. “Have I known anyone who’s died from the plague yet?”

He nodded, and she sighed. “Not that I know of. When I left Port Tremaine, the disease wasn’t even a thing. I haven’t been back but I’ve asked at every port we stopped at. From what they said, the disease hadn’t made it that far but that it had hit the town nearby.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave a half-hearted smile and shrug. “There’s nothing that either one of us can do about it. To be honest, who even knows if that orphanage is still standing? It was practically in shambles when I was a kid.” Her eyes turned dark. “I just don’t want to finally come home and find everyone dead. You know, they don’t even bury the bodies.”

“What do you mean?”

“They have to burn them instead, to try and stop the spreading at least. They all get rounded up, dead and alive, and thrown into a hole and burned. At least, that’s how Vesuvia does it. They’ve even got a separate island. But I’ve heard the smell is the worst; the wind carries it.”

“That’s horrible!” That was monstrous, and he felt indignant and enraged on her part.

“Maybe, but what can any of us do about it?”

A rebuttal died on his lips when he realized that there was no good one. His long fingers clenched the sand. How could humans lack so much compassion and humanity? Sure, mermaids and sirens and rusalkas all fought and killed each other, but judging on the wars and status of their cities, it was hardly a fraction of the destruction humans wrought on their neighbors. He was so caught up in thoughts that only a warm hand on his shoulder pulled him out. 

“Are you okay?” she asked with a hint of worry. “Is it the magic? Are you still worn out.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine. Please, continue.”

“I was just wondering if mermaids got plagues and sick in the same way as humans” It felt weird referring to her race by its name.

Now, his mood turned sullen and he physically slumped, like the weight of remembering was too heavy. She felt her stomach coil in regret.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s fine. It’s just…not too long ago, there was a horrible epidemic. I tried my best to find the root of illness and create a cure, but while I kept searching, more and more mermaids died. Children, mothers, all of them, and I was powerless to do anything about it. After three years, I found a temporary solution but it didn’t stop the masses from succumbing. The sickness eventually died out on its own.”

“Did anyone you love die?” she asked the question with less hesitation than him. Perhaps it was her life as an orphan or her life as a pirate, but death was only natural and a common friend. 

He shook his head. “Luckily no, Pasha and Mazelinka didn’t get sick.” His mood uplifted and turned fond at their names. Eilen smiled—sadness didn’t suit him.

“Who are they?”

“Hmm?”

“Pasra and Makelinda,” she knew she butchered their names. Julian’s poorly contained laugh only solidified it.

“Pasha and Mazelinka, or, rather, Portia and…and…,” he tried to think of the correct translation but came up blank. “I suppose Mazelinka don’t fit nicely into your language. Anyways, Portia is my sister and Mazelinka raised us.”

“Is she your mother?”

His hair flopped as he shook his head. “We’re orphans too, but she took us in, taught us some of her tricks.”

“Like the magic?”

Julian shifted uneasily. “Not, not quite. That’s…from something else.”

Eilen eyed him but didn’t press the subject. Her gaze did linger on his throat, as if waiting for the white symbol she hazily remembered to appear. But nothing did except for a creeping blush. She frowned at him, scanning his body head to toe, and then casting a hand over her eyes and looking at the sun. Julian frowned at her sudden movement.

“What are you…ah!”

He practically jumped when she placed her palm on his chest, fingers outstretched wide. His face flushed darkly, and he looked at her in curious alarm but didn’t move her hand. He tried to maintain a steady up and down rhythm of his chest, but her intent features weren’t helping. Finally, she lifted her fingers off and watch as the patch of skin turned white and quickly faded back to pink.

“You’ve got to go,” she said and stood up. He twisted rapidly to catch her arm.

“What? Why?”

Eilen brought a hand to her lips, hiding her smile. “You’re getting sunburn. You’ve got to go back to the ocean.”

He looked down at himself and pursed his lips at the indeed reddening skin. Mermaids were always more susceptible to the sun but he was even worse than most. He snuck a discreet glance at the tanned wrist he held, comparing their complexions. He loosened his grip on the appendage but didn’t let go. Instead, he gently dragged her to the ocean as he scooted himself back into the water. She watched, amused. (It was a rather odd sight). Finally, when the water was up to her calves and his chest, he stopped and grinned. She raised an eyebrow.

“So it seems I must be off.” He kissed her knuckles lightly. Her breathing hitched and she felt her cheeks heat up. He smiled slyly at the side. “You should head for cover, too. Your face looks a bit pink. Farewell.”

He disappeared before she could swat at him. Eilen dropped her head into her hands and stormed her way up to the treeline. What was she doing? She plopped onto the bed of leaves and closed her eyes. They flew open and she groaned, rolling onto her side. She needed to get him out of her mind. Slowly but surely and with loads of forced blankness, she drifted off to sleep.


	9. A Winter's Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally updated. I am so sorry it's been so long. Hope you enjoy.

She woke to a sky of glittering gems and paused to take it all in. The stars winked at her from both the ceiling and the floor of the world and she walked towards the water. Always the water. She wondered if she ever got off this island if she would stay away from it completely—move to a desert or something—or if she would forever be tied to it and live on a beach. At the moment, she never wanted to leave. 

Constellations were her favorite things to study as a child, and the stories that went with them were just too ridiculous to not enjoy when she lived under the strict rules of the sister. Mythology, the arcane, creatures, all of them were such a wonderful escape from reality. Eilen watched as they were covered by orange and pink paint until it all faded to bright baby blue. She finally stood up and brushed herself off, going to clean herself up and drink some of the water. When she went back to the beach, her mermaid was there, sunbathing. At least, she thought it was her mermaid from her very, very brief glance. 

“You came back quick.” Eilen walked closer and found her steps became slower. “You’re not Julian.”

The mermaid giggled, her orange and red hair bouncing despite its dampness. “Nope,” she smiled cheerfully as she popped the ‘p.’ “He’s my brother. I’m Pasha, but you can call me Portia.” She stuck out her hand.

The pirate moved closer, cautiously and tentatively, reaching out to shake the pale hand. “Eilen.”

Portia giggled. “I already knew that, but it’s nice to hear you pronounce it. Sometimes Ilyuska doesn’t always get all the syllables correct when he’s talking in our native language.”

“I suppose…” Eilen’s eyes darted around the water. “He’s not here then, is he?”

“Not yet. He still has some things he has to do in Nevivron. I came because I wanted to see you. I’ve never seen a human before.”

“It’s a pity I’m your first impression of the human race,” she replied dryly. Eilen disregarded her previous hesitance and sat down closer to the mermaid. “So, what are you doing here, Portia? Is it safe for you to come up to the surface?”

“It’s fine as long as I’m back soon, no one will notice. And I just had to see the human Ilya kept talking about.” Portia grinned at the slight red that polished her cheeks. “He goes on and on about you, how pigmented your skin is, your hair, your eyes. OH! Your feet! Can I see them?”

“Uh, sure?” It was more of a question than a confirmation, but Eilen stretched out her legs, letting her feet touch the water. Portia stared at the toes and legs and awe before carefully reaching out to touch them. Eilen jumped when her fingers brushed along her sole.

“Sorry!” Portia immediately apologized, her fingers snapping back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Eilen laughed loudly. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m ticklish.”

“Oh. Are all feet ticklish?”

“Not necessarily,” she shrugged. “It depends on the person.”

“Hmm,” Portia mused before she lit up brightly. “I finally know something that Julian doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t know that feet are ticklish?” Eilen’s eyebrow was cocked.

Portia shook her head, thick curls sticking and unsticking from her neck. “You’re the first human he’s really gotten close to and can study. He once knew someone before—”

“Pasha!” Speak of the devil and he will come. Julian’s head burst above the wave and he quickly swam towards the pair. He smiled charmingly at Eilen and threw an arm around his sister, discreetly covering her mouth.

“I see my sister just couldn’t contain her curiosity. You know you  _ really _ shouldn’t be up here,” he said, his tone strained as he gave his sister a warning glare. The mermaid rolled her cornflower blue eyes. Her brother was too secretive for no reason. “Anyways, dear Pasha, Mazelinka is looking for you. You should go now.”

Eilen watched the scene with crossed arms and a smile. She knew how it worked, having been both the younger and older sibling at some point. She could see through his act and her mind turned mischievous.

“Julian,” Portia protested only for Julian to end it with a swift but stern look. Her cheeks rouged in anger but she smiled sweetly at Eilen, waving her goodbye and promising to visit soon.

“Younger siblings, what can you do with them?” Julian tried to play it off. 

“Uh huh,” she grinned. “You know, she told me you talk about me.”

He would be terrible at betting, she realized. He was so easy to fluster and tease. Julian’s cheeks raged red as he looked away. “Only sometimes. They wanted to know where I went most of the days so…you see…I really had no choice. Think nothing of it.”

“Whatever you say,” she said sing-songy. “You know, you’re terrible at bluffing.”

He looked offended but his blush raced down his neck. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“So if I said you liked me, you could deny that with a straight face,” she boldly proclaimed.

“I…um…there’s no denying that you’re…um…attractive...for a human…I assume at least and, well, you’ve…uh…got a nice personality—”

Eilen ended his suffering by laughing hysterically and falling back into the sand, clutching her stomach, with tears almost falling from her eyes. He was too cute, dare she even think. 

Julian mustered some courage and shot back some bander. “And if I asked if you liked me?” He swallowed, slightly panicked for her answer.

“Of course. You did save me afterall. How could I not like you?”

He wanted to say that he didn’t mean ‘like’ like that. “Have you ever liked someone?” he tried to clarify.

She brushed off his question’s real question without a thought. “I’ve liked quite a few people in this world.”

He shook his head, drawing Eilen’s attention to his pensive eyes. The words tumbled from his lips before he even truly thought them through. “I meant, have you ever been in love?” 

“Now that’s a deep question but…” She let her head roll as her mind raced back to all those years ago. A distant look flooded her eyes, Julian noticed the change immediately.

“I’ve only been in love once, when I was a girl, probably seventeen. He was…handsome, slightly immature, but ever so charming. We dated for an entire spring, summer, and then autumn. He was attentive to my every need, always there when I needed. I snuck out of the orphanage most nights to meet him by the docks, and we would talk and do…uh…other things until the sun rose. This boy held my heart.”

“He doesn’t make you happy now,” Julian commented, himself looking upset on her behalf. He hoisted his glistening body onto the sand to see her better. “What changed?”

Eileen stretched out her legs and laid down, propping her head on a hand. Her body shifted to face Julian’s, and another mischievous glint flashed across her blue gaze. 

“Are you so intuned with my body language that you can already tell such emotional changes? My, my, my. You move quite fast Julian. I’ll have to warn you, I’m not that easy to woo.”

His face flushed though he tried to maintain his hard exterior. He knew she was teasing him, but she wasn’t too far off the mark, if he was completely honest…not that he would ever admit it. Julian was relieved when she continued with the story.

“I don’t remember exactly when but it was winter. It’s always extremely cold in Port Tremaine during those months, so people often cuddle up to warm their bodies and hearts. He was born in winter. On his birthday, I snuck out of the orphanage with the intent to surprise him. I entered the bar I knew he liked best and waited in the corner for him. He would visit this bar everyday at the exact time. However, to  _ my _ surprise, he was already there, walking down from the bedrooms with a stunning woman on his arm. The other patrons whooped and hollered at then like it was some kind of common occurrence.” She smiled sadly at Julian, and the mermaid felt his heart twist. “Apparently, those two frequently used the rooms in the tavern and were pegged as the wildest and loudest occupants. After that, I stopped trying for true relationships and just satisfied my needs with random but pleasing men—no attachments involved. It worked for a long time.”

“Are you still happy with that?” Julian asked. He unconsciously leaned closer, close enough to make out her long eyelashes and light flicks of freckles on her nose. Eilen blushed at the proximity and dropped her gaze to the ground. She picked at the sand, drawing aimless squiggles.

“I don’t really know. Times change and I see it differently now that I’m older. Maybe it’s that I want at least one constant in my chaotic mess of a life. Maybe it's the desire to experience pure, romantic love. Maybe it’s the hope that I’ll find someone to grow old with. But I’ll probably die in a few years anyways, so it doesn’t matter.” She gave a half-hearted shrug and changed the subject of the conversation. “Now, what about you. You ever been in love?”

His face soured. “A long time ago.”

“It can’t have been that long ago. You barely look barely twenty-eight.” A thought crossed her mind. “Wait, do mermaids age differently? How old are you?”

“We do age at a slower pace than humans. By your standards, I’m 84.”

Eilen whistled. “Damn, you’re an old man.”

“How old are you?”

“Only 25.” She laughed. “Now tell me.”

Julian felt reluctant but knew it was only fair to share his story. “Mermaids and humans aren’t meant to be, but that didn’t deter me from pursuing one. He was beautiful and adventurous, though always a bit reserved and aloof. One day, I went to meet him, only to find him missing. I tried again, night after night, but he never appeared. After so many attempts, I gave up and returned to Nevivon.”

“Seems we’ve both had our hearts broken by bastards. The man, he wasn’t from Port Tremaine, was he?” she asked.

“No,” Julian shook his head. “He was from a desert city.”

“Good. I would hate for that bastard to break a heart like yours.”

“From the looks of it, he didn’t deserve you either.”

“Eh,” she shrugged and smiled. “I’m quite a bitch some days, the ‘tart-tongued orphan’ they used to say.”

“I don’t see it.”

“You’d probably be the first then.” Her face fell.

“But I’m the only one that matters.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. She snorted and the corner of her lip turned up. She surprised them both by laying her head on his shoulder.

“You know,” she said after a few moments of silence, “I really wanted to be an astronomer.”

“A what?”

“Right, I forgot, you live in the ocean. I wanted to study the stars. I wanted to know what was beyond this world. The sister always made it sound so boring, but what I saw in the streets was terrifying. I thought that I could distract myself if I only looked up. But now I know there’s more down here than I could have ever imagined.”

“Do you want to see it?”

She lifted her head and he wished he hadn’t said anything. Gray gazed into blue. He was always amazed by their shade. “What do you mean?”

“Let me show you the ocean below the waves. Let’s explore.”

She pulled away anymore and brushed her hand against his forehead. In fear of turning red again, he pulled it away. “Are you sick? You’re not running a fever.”

“Why do you ask?”

“I can’t breath underwater,” she stated the obvious. 

His lips drew into a large smile. She quickly forced her eyes away from them and back into his own. “Oh look who knows so much. Listen to what the doctor prescribes, love.”


	10. Dirge of Three Queens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: dead/drowned bodies.

She wondered if her actions were too forward, but they were quickly forgotten by the name he tagged on to the end of his sentence. Julian tried to play the nickname off as a slip of the tongue, but she only shot him a look and downed the disgusting concoction he had told her would help her breath and see underwater, at least for a short period of time. Like the skeptic she was, she stalled until he threatened to just leave. She shivered and wrinkled her nose as the slimy slush made its way down her system, tempting her to gag. Julian watched her face with amusement.

“Is it really that disgusting?”

“Gods yes,” she coughed. “Have you had it before?”

“Once when I was little. I don’t remember much.”

“Lucky you.”

He grinned from his position in the water and extended one long hand toward Eilen. She walked into the water, getting her clothes wet  _ again _ —if she ever escaped the island, she promised she’d buy a new shirt at least. She barely held in a gasp as he grabbed her hand and pulled her close to his chest. She felt his tail against her legs. He was warm in comparison to the water and she unconsciously closed the distance. Eilen stopped him just before he could dive under the dark waves.

“And you’re positive you’re not about to kill me? I don’t fancy drowning.” She cast the water a dirty glare. “As you’ve probably guessed, water and I don’t have the best relationship.”

“I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said with earnest. She looked into his eyes deeply before taking a deep breath and nodding. 

The only warning Julian gave her was the tightening of his arms on her back and neck as they plunged under. Eilen was tempted to gasp as the cold water flooded her body but kept her mouth and her eyes shut, trying to ignore where she was. A garbled laugh vibrated the water next to her head, and long hands pushed her slightly away from his body. She panicked and tried to cling on to him but relaxed slightly as he squeezed her biceps in comfort.

“Open your eyes,” he said, though the water distorted his words slightly.

She shook her head, her hair slowly drifting back and forth. 

“It’s okay, I promised you, didn’t I?”

Eilen felt her chest burn but she was so scared. Every memory of drowning—of that helplessness—flooded her mind. She felt her body begin to freeze and a pressure build in her head when she felt Julian caress her cheek. It was so gentle that she accidentally inhaled at the feeling, only to realize what she did and inhale water in response. She expected to choke and feel that squeezing feeling worsen in her chest but instead felt it release. Cautiously, she inhaled once more. She cracked one eye open and then another. The salt didn’t burn them. Instantly, they connected with Julian’s, who smiled at her. 

“How is this even possible?” she whispered, the words lost in the water. 

Eilen’s head turned every which way, taking in the way the light filtered in and the small fish that floated underneath. The ocean floor dipped drastically but little rock pillars reached up to the surface. As she looked down, she watched Julian’s black tail beat gently back and forth. Damn, it was long, stretching a good two meters at least. It was brilliant in the water, the sun glinting just right off the scales. Julian laughed at her amazement.

“Is this to your liking?” he asked slyly.

“This is…” She was at a loss of words. “In all my life…”

“There’s even more.” He pulled her even further below, pleased that she was fighting her fear though her hand tightly squeezed his. She tried to swim fast enough to match his pace but it was no match for his powerful tail. He pulled her close again, noticing the blush immediately and responding similarly. Gods, he needed to keep his act together. He let go of her hand quickly and swam to a rock outcropping, heart tensing at her flash of panic. Julain raced back, hiding something behind his back as he stabilized her, noticing how she relaxed. His heart picked up and he unfurled his hand. There were small shells, types Eilen had never seen before. Her fingertip gently brushed against them.

“They’re beautiful. It so much more beautiful than I thought.”

“Are you still scared?”

He saw that mischievous grin but couldn’t help reacting to her remark nonetheless. “Not with you here,” she said.

“You flatter me,” he teased back. 

“Oh?” Eilen propelled herself impossibly close to him, faces centimeters away. He felt small bubbles escape her lips on his own and his throat swelled shut.

“Would you like to see a shipwreck?” he blurted, trying to save face if only a little.

“A shipwreck?” Her eyes flashed through several emotions. Could it be her ship? In all honesty, she had almost forgotten about the pirate crew after being secluded for so long. She couldn’t even remember how long ago that night was. “Sure,” she agreed. Maybe it would provide some closure.

They swam not too far away and Eilen began to regret her decision, worry taking over her as the water turned darker. Julian frequently glanced back to make sure she was alright. Each time, she smiled reassuringly but it was a farce. Finally, they stopped and Julian nodded towards the sunken ship. The flag’s colors were obscured by the mast it was wrapped around. As if in a trance, she let go of Julian and swam to it, pulling on the heavy cloth. The water made the colors more saturated but the purple and green of Vesuvia were definitely distinguishable. She swam to the side and studied the etched name.  _ The Three Queens _ . That was the ship that had pursued them during the Tempest.. She spun around in the water, startling Julian, who had swam closer.

“Is this the only ship?” there was a frantic hint to her question.

“This is the only one nearby. Trust me.”

“That means they’re still alive.” Eilen felt conflicted.

“Who is?”

“My crew. There was a tempest and we were fighting another ship, a merchant one from Vesuvia. They must have survived the tempest then.” She swam to the seafloor, messing around in the sand. Julian floated next to her.

“What are you looking for?”

“My boots. I kicked them off, I think.” She searched some more. “Damn. I hoped I could’ve found them. That sand gets hot during the day.”

“Are your feet hurt?” Julian asked in concern. Eilen shook her head, not used to the resistance it met in the water.

“No, but it would be a comfort. Anyways, let’s go inside the ship. There has to be gold and other jewels if it’s from Vesuvia.”

“What a pirate thing of you to say.” 

He meant it in jest, but her eyes flickered with something sad, and she started in the direction of the rotting wood without a response. Julian caught her arm, and bit his lip. “Let me go first. There may be sharks or octopuses inside.”

“Race you there?” she offered, spirits still dampened.

He scoffed. “You could never beat me.”

“Hmmm,” she mused and he felt she had a very different idea in mind. He took off and she followed, laughing at his back. She was a dirty-minded creature, wasn’t she? Or was he overthinking?

Together, they entered through a large hole in the side, Julian guiding her past the splinters. It was very dark inside. Eilen marvelled at the design. Vesuvia certainly spared no expenses, did they? Though from the rumors she had heard about the count that ruled them, it should have been no surprise. She ordered him to check the right side and she’d search the left. He held up his hands in surrender and sped off. She stared fondly at him and his retreating tail before heading to check the captain’s cabin. She opened the door and stilled.

Her hands clenched and she shivered but not from the cold. Behind the captain’s desk was the captain himself, weighed down by his heavy coat and boots. His flesh was bloated and blue, and some parts were hanging on loosely. She almost gagged.

Eilen had been a pirate for years; her occupation was murdering and plundering, but it never got easier. Deaths were always horrible, and she hadn’t seen a drowned corpse in a while either. Her captain had her flogged repeatedly for showing signs of hesitation and regret. But the lashes never lessened the guilt that settled in her stomach.

She cast one last glance at the captain and closed the door. She felt sick, her skin crawling. Julian found her just outside the ship, mind far away. Something was wrong, but he didn’t want to pry. He only asked if she wanted to head back to the surface. She nodded numbly. 

She only roused from her trance once she felt the burning sand on her wet skin and the sun upon her face. Julian had laid her down and was propped next to her, soothing back her hair and gazing at her with worried, gray eyes. Normally, she would have made a joke or slapped his hand away, but she welcomed the touch.

“What happened?” he prompted.

“There was a body. The captain.”

His features went slack before turning guilty. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was there—”

“Julian, it’s not your fault. If anything, it’s mine. My crew sank the ship.”

“Eilen.” She looked up at her name. “You didn’t have a choice.”

“We always have a choice, Julian.”

“You’re not a bad person,” he said.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he replied firmly. “And I’ll have you know, I am an excellent judge of character.”

“Julian, you don’t really know me.” She started to get frustrated.

“I know you enough to know that you’re not evil.” His own tone became heated. “Why are you so convinced that you are?”

“Because I…” she couldn’t formulate an answer.

“See? Eilen, I would l…like you if you were bad. I wouldn’t have saved you any of those times. Trust me.” His fingers combed through her hair, detangling the strands. She reached up and reciprocated the movement, only looking at the silky red strands and avoiding his face.

“Thank you, Julian.” 

A single tear slipped down her cheek but he was there to brush it away. 


	11. Now the Hungry Lion's Roar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some anatomy lessons and then into the action

Two more weeks passed by in a whirlwind of exploring treasure coves, underwater scenes, and red hair. Some days and nights Portia would sneak up with her brother and interact with the funny human. They both kept Eilen’s ex-profession from her. No one particularly wanted to remember it, Eilen least of all. Maybe it was bad, maybe it was good, but every morning, she counted down the hours until she could see the mermaid again. For the first time since… _ him _ , she felt comfortable with another being. 

Eilen waved at him when she stepped out from the shade and onto the burning sand, quickly hobbling to the cool water. He grinned as he laid down a meter away, the small waves coming up to his neck but not the chin he rested on his long, folded hands. She returned the smirk and sat down, leaning against her elbows.

“Don’t you have work you’re supposed to do, doctor?”

He hummed, pretending to think. “Not at the moment, darling.”  _ That _ . A simple word made her stomach clench. He always said it so endearingly. She used to hit any men that called her any pet names. No one had been allowed to call her it. No one except him, and she didn’t know why. In the fourteen or so days, it slipped out more and more frequently. Sometimes, he would even call her “love,” though that was less common and always caused both of them to blush.

“Sure,” she drawled, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. “I’d rather just believe that my presence is more scintillating and endearing.”

“Well, there’s no denying that.” He shot her another grin, unintentionally more sensual than the last.

Julian, himself, was impressed with how brazen he had allowed himself to become in this…engagement. He wasn’t sure if it was intimate enough to be flirting but, if he allowed himself to dream, he wanted it to be. To distract his thoughts, he picked up one tanned foot and studied his. Eilen tried not to fidget, but she bit down on her bottom lip to hold back the giggle that grew in her chest. He tipped a pale index finger down her ridge, touch light as a kiss. She couldn’t help laughing and tried to pull it back, but he anchored. He pulled it to his chest, slightly dragging her closer.

“Stop,” she said between gasps. “Please.”

“Is this you begging for mercy?” he teased.

“I’d have you begging thrice over before I’d ever give in,” she shot back, quick wittedly. He painted a pretty red and quickly let go of her foot. Was he into that? He was too cute, she realized.

“They’re so interesting,” he mumbled, not looking her in the eye. Oh? Was he embarrassed?

“What are?” Eilen flipped her body around so she was lying on her stomach, head in her hands, mimicking Julian. Their faces were centimeters aware.

“Your feet.” He felt a bit faint and blamed it on the sun and not on the small gap in her loose and ragged shirt. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her basically already—when she got soaked and poisoned—but he felt his temperature rise.

“Really? Well, let me tell you something Julian, feet are neither the most important nor beautiful anatomical feature of humans.”

“Then what is?”

“A cock. Or eyes, I suppose,” she blurted out without thinking. Her eyes widened, and she spluttered like a fish on land at her own words. She wasn’t fast enough to backtrack before Julian retorted, a small indent in between his eyebrows.

“A…what? What is a cock?”

She coughed slightly and avoided his eyes. “Uh…you see, I…uhhh… meant lips. Cock is… erm, it’s a colloquial term for…lips in my language.” Her stuttering and flush that crept down her neck and ears hardly helped sell her lie. Oh how the tides had turned.

Julian desperately tried to hide his smirk and only raised an eyebrow, scooting nearer. “I am fluent in your language. Cock does not mean lips. So what is it?”

Eilen shielded her face from the sun with a hand, hoping the shadows would mask the red. It only seemed to emphasize it. She swallowed and mumbled a definition too quietly for even him to hear.

“What was that? Darling, I can’t hear you.”

“It’s the…um…human…male reproductive organ.”

Julian couldn’t contain it anymore and let out a loud barking. His guffawing made Eilen’s face turn even more beet red. She swatted at his chest. He caught her palm after she left a stinging handprint (he decided he rather enjoyed that feeling) and interlaced their fingers. She huffed but didn’t more, only didn’t turn her head away.

“I know exactly what a cock is. Did you forget my rendezvous with the magician? Though I’m quite curious to see the wonder you speak so highly of.”

“Oh gods.” 

He only lightly brushed her hand against his lips, trying to ignore his fluttering heart. Her body stiffened at the softness, and he wondered if he went too far. She didn’t respond, but he felt her fingers tightened on his to the point they hurt. She still hadn’t looked back at him.

“Eilen?” Her name was lost in the wind. He reached a hand to touch her face when she whipped towards him.

“Julian hide,” she yelled with urgency, shoving his body into the shallow water. She ripped herself out of his grasp and all but pulled him deeper into the waves.

“Eilen.” He tried to grasp her frantic hands. When he finally caught them, he pressed them to his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“See that?” She flung a hand out at the distant horizon. The purple and green flag was blatant against the light blue sky. “That’s a ship is from Vesuvia. If they see you, they’ll kill you. You have to go now.”

“But what about you?” He didn’t budge an inch. His gaze was intense. 

Eilen locked eyes with him, blue on grey. She gently removed her hands from his grip and placed them on both cheeks. She pressed her chapped and dry lips to his velvet ones lovingly. Julian froze. She pulled away too quickly, before he could reciprocate.

“Go,” she pleaded once more, shoving his body back into the water. She splashed away from him, the space she created too much for him to breach.

He really didn’t want to but there was nothing he could do. If he tried to go after her, she’d only run away. Julian bowed his head. “Promise me you’ll be alright.”

“I will be. But you need to now. Please, Julian. I can’t let them hurt you..”

Julian looked at her, the moment feeling like an eternity, before turning tail and slipping effortlessly under the surface. Eilen sighed when the black tips vanished and ran back onto shore and into the woods. They were no doubt looking on the search for the ship and crew that had tried to attack Vesuvia about a month ago; that Count Lucio would never rest until he found and punished them. He was bloodthirsty with a penchant for grudges.

She peered through the trees to see the ship already docking. Her face paled; Vesuvian guards were notoriously harsh and horrible, with a reputation as bad as any pirate she knew of. If they found her, they would no doubt take her back whether she was guilty or not for the attack. They didn’t care about the innocence of the people they captured. She’d heard rumors that they’d abduct random people down on their luck and bring them back to Vesuvia, where they were entered into gladiator games or just left to rot in prison. She cursed her luck as they stepped foot onto the sand and retreated further onto the small island. 

They would find traces of her living there; they would have to be blind not to. She felt her heart in her throat as she tore through the branches and leaves, trying to make as little noise as possible. She paused by the weird spring that supplied her daily fresh water. Gods, if only she could just disappear under the water like Julian…the concoction! Eilen stopped and glanced behind her. Julian had given her some of the mixture that allowed her to breath underwater to keep, and she kept the small clay vial by the entrance to the forest where she normally slept. It was her only way out. She needed it. They wouldn’t leave until they searched the whole, tiny island, and they would find her. 

“Gods,” she swore as she carefully backtracked. 

She could hear them. The Vesuvian soldiers and sailors clacked and clanged as they walked the island, swearing right and left gruffly. Still hidden, Eilen spotted the bottle, half buried in the sand. But it was exposed. If she could just run out and get it before they saw her… She could chug it as then she ran to the water, and then she could escape. It was risky but it was the only option. 

Eilen prepared herself to sprint. But just as she darted out from behind the foliage, she caught sight of a very distinct black mane, one she hadn’t seen in four weeks, and faltered, tripping on the sand. 

“Hey you! Stop!”

She panicked as her captain’s eyes met hers, a smug and threatening smile on her lips. Eilen bolted to her feet and grabbed the bottle, throwing the stopper to the side, and chugging it. She raced to the water but was tackled just as it touched her toes. Her head was shoved into the slushy sand. It filled her mouth and she heaved, desperate to breathe. The pressure loosened only for a second, but a firm grip on her hair and a body on her back kept her immobilized.

“Is this one?”

“Sure is,” her captain replied. “Picked ‘er up from Port Tremaine a few years ago. Always a paranoid one.”

“You—” Eilen hissed a few choice words and was rewarded with a mouth full of wet sand again. Her captain’s claws dug sharply into her scalp when she was lifted upwards again. 

“Spirited, too.”

“She’ll do,” the nameless guard said. The pirate captain got off Eilen’s back and hauled her to her feet. She glared and spat at them as they dragged her aboard the vessel. It was worthless to try and struggle against their iron holds but she fought until a fist to the stomach caused her to double over. 

“You know,” the captain whispered in her ear. Her voice was just as silky, just as conniving, just as oily as Eilen remembered. “I’m surprised you stayed alive so long. You see, after the fight, a different Vesuvian ship came and found us. I made them a deal: I’d round up all of the pirates I knew and send them over to be hanged, while I earn my freedom.” All of her yellow teeth glinted in the sun. 

“Bastard,” Eilen seethed. “You sold out your own crew?”

The captain shrugged as she cuffed Eilen’s hands behind her back and threw her to the deck of the ship. She stumbled and landed on the wood harshly. “Lost your sea-legs already?” she mocked and shrugged again. “Crews come and go. Now, my life, that’s a one time thing.”

All Eilen could do was glare at her captain as she was then escorted to the ships holding cells. She didn’t know how much time passed but she guessed two days going by the cramping of her stomach and the pain in her head. When they finally brought her above deck, she squinted into the sun. The Vesuvian Palace’s spires shot straight up into the sky like spikes on a cage. 

She swallowed as they shoved her onto the docks and into the lion’s den. 

In the distance, she could hear the roars and shouts from the infamous Coliseum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it feel like I'm rushing the story at all? The twist is meant to be there and all but does (as an author to her readers) does it feel like I've developed Julian and Eilen's relationship well?


	12. When in Disgrace with Fortune and Men's Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in the chapter. This week has been really rough and last week I was really tired and exhausted. Also, it seems my mind can't stay committed to a single story and I just want to write five other stories at the same time (which doesn't really work, trust me). It may not be the best chapter. Nonetheless, we are getting into the thick of the plot, so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> ALSO, this has over a 1000 views. Holy crap, thank you all so much!

They left her to rot in a cell for another three days, her skin quickly losing the healthy complexion it had earned from all her time basking in the sun. Her hair grew greasy, nasty, and it stuck to her face and neck from all the sweat and grime. Eilen glanced at her feet. Gods, had they been through a rough patch? At least the sand was warm and calloused the pads until she couldn’t feel anything. They were black with muck on the cold rock floors. And cold. Now more than ever, she just wished she had her boots again. She was wiping off some of the filth when the cell door creaked open. Two guards and her captain waited on the other side. She glanced up at them but didn’t say a word.

“Get her up,” her captain ordered, tipping her chin up her in direction. Eilen remained limp as they hauled her to her feet, wincing when one accidentally stepped on her foot. They shuffled her awkwardly out of the cell and up the stairs, Small bits and pieces of something, Eilen wasn’t even sure, embedded themselves in her soles. But she refused to give her captain the satisfaction of seeing her react. The ravenette always fed off other’s pain—that’s why she handed out whippings generously. Eilen wasn’t her favorite to punish but she never excluded either.

She felt her heart thud faster with each step they climbed to the trial. Her captain shoved her shoulder, throwing her off balance. Eilen fell to her knees, wincing as they scraped against the uneven stone, bruised and cut. The guards grabbed her shirt and skin and hauled her back to her feet without care. They continued to walk until they reached a door. They opened it, and the light blinded her. But even without her sight, she knew there was a bloodthirsty crowd waiting.

“Hang her! Hang her!”

~~~

Julian had seen it all. He had popped his head above surface just enough to watch Eilen get tackled to the ground by another human. He felt his blood boil as her face was slammed repeatedly into the sand before being hauled up by the hair, cuffed, and forced onto the wooden vessel. He  _ knew _ he shouldn’t have left her alone. 

She’d been taken a day ago, he was wasting time. His hands tugged dangerously hard on his hair as he continued frantically searched his room for any map of the ocean. He hadn’t been to Vesuvia in years, he didn’t know the way. Throwing scrolls and papers left and right, scattering them in the water, he tore through his room with a fervor. Portia peaked in just as he let out a cry of panic and fear and guilt, just a ball of noise and emotions. 

“Ilya,” she swam closer to him, tentatively reaching out. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find the map,” his voice cracked. “I need to find that map. They took her. They’re going to kill her.”

Portia could barely understand him when he switched from their native language to the one he used with Eilen. But she could sense how distraught and fearful he was. 

“What map?”

“The Vesuvian one. They took Eilen. They took her!” Julian grabbed Portia’s shoulders, staring at her intently. His sister felt her chest tighten at the sheer panic in his eyes.

“We can find it, I’m sure,” she reasoned.

Together, they resumed their search, Julian’s movements becoming less frantic. They searched more thoroughly through his hundreds of books and random papers. It was hours before Portia pulled out a paper hidden behind his desk. She unrolled it and almost dropped it in surprise.

“Ilya!” she shouted, gaining his attention. She waved it in the water, careful not to let it rip, and practically shoved it into his hands. His eyes darted across it, studying the lines and shapes and symbols. 

“This is it. This is it! Thank you Pasha.” He kissed his sister’s cheek quickly and sped out of the room quickly.

He was going to save her. He had done it twice before, he could do it again. He was not going to abandon her now. Not when he…she…no, he needed her. Not when he hadn’t told her. He willed his powerful tail to work as fast as possible.

And he didn’t stop for two days until he reached Vesuvian waters. Even underwater, he could hear the chants and roars of the crowd from the notorious Coliseum. Cautiously, he popped his eyes above water and scanned the area. There was a giant palace up on the rocks that stretched into the sky, but he had an inkling that Eilen wasn’t there. He swam around the edge, desperate to find her. But suddenly, he dove back under water, gagging. There was something disgusting in the air and he turned around in the water. He swam towards a small island but recoiled. Even the water was polluted. It smelled like fire and oil and ash and…something he didn’t even want to consider. Is this what Eilen meant when she said Vesuvia burned the bodies? He felt an even saltier drop of water, not from the ocean, prick his eyes. But he shook his head, he couldn’t think about that now. He had to find Eilen.

Julian swam around and around what he could, even daring to swim up one of the channels, for an entire day with no sign of Eilen. He could barely sleep the night, so when a loud chanting, different from yesterday, echoed in the water, he bolted up. It took a moment to distinguish the words, but his face paled.

“Hang her! Hang her!”

~~~

The Coliseum terrified her. It had ever since she was a child and she’d heard  _ tales _ of it. Standing in the center of it, with a crowd wanting her death, being judged by a man feared in every town, was much, much worse than any nightmare she could have dreamt. Her body shook slightly, earning her a slap and remark from her ex-captain. Eilen kept her eyes down. She couldn’t look at her persecutors or the crowd. Only when the chanting quieted did she glance up. Count Lucio was standing at the edge, a cruel set to his eyes and mouth. She didn't recognize any of the faces to his left or right but assumed they were his council. She swallowed as the trial began.

Her captain took the stage. “Dearest Count of Vesuvia, I’ve brought today a member of the pirate crew that attacked Vesuvia more than a month ago. She plotted and guided us to attack your ships and cost you many lives. I hand her over to you.”

Eilen stared at her with wide-eyes that narrowed instantly. She tried to take a step forward when the guards grabbed her and pulled her back. 

“Count, I did no such thing. She was my captain, we had to follow orders. I argued against it.”

“A bold proclamation,” Lucio said. “Yes, she was your captain, but, by bringing in other pirates and gold, she’s working off her debt. Captain,” he addressed, “what punishment do you want?”

“A hanging is always nice,” she answered with a grin. The crowd echoed her sentiments, rising up and shouting their agreement. Eilen twitched in fear and struggled against the guards. She barely noticed the man to Lucio’s immediately left move towards him, pleading with him to reconsider.

“I didn’t do it!” she shouted her innocence. “I didn’t want to attack Vesuvia, I’m innocent. What kind of trial is this?”

Lucio brushed off the man and pointed at her. “Who ever said this was a trial?”

  
“What?” It was barely a whisper. “You’re going to condemn me to death without caring? Is that what Vesuvia wants to be known as? A murderous society without a care for people’s damn rights or lives?”

It seemed her words struck a chord with the crowd, and some calmed down from their bloodlust and actually assessed the situation. She was pretty young, desperate and decrepit. Was she really a danger? What if she really didn’t want to attack Vesuvia?   
  


Turning towards Lucio but hoping for the crowd’s sympathy, she explained. “I didn’t even want to join the crew. I was raised in an orphanage in Port Tremaine, and one of the younger children there made a stupid decision. He was gambling with  _ her _ ,” Eilen pointed an accusing finger at the captain, who was glaring at her murderously. “If he won, she had to pay him. If he lost, he had to join her crew. He was fourteen.” Now the crowd whispered how disgusting it was for the captain to even think about such a bargain with a child. “He lost but I took his place. I was only seventeen. I didn’t have a choice. And she was the one that orchestrated the attack against Vesuvia. She wanted your gold. She killed you men.”

The Coliseum was quiet and sullen as her words processed. Eilen didn’t notice the captain walking up behind her, until her head was wrenched back by her hair. 

“You really think you have a chance at getting free. The crowd doesn’t make the decision, the Count does. You were a dead man from the moment you joined my ship,” she hissed.

Eilen tried to maintain her composure, but she knew her ex-captain wasn’t lying. She felt her hope dissipate as all eyes looked at the count. He was leaning his head on his golden hand, enjoying the cold sharpness it brought to his cheek. What a passionate speech. Boring. He straightened up. 

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Eilen. I don’t have a surname.”

He hummed. “Eilen, I pronounce you guilty of attempted murder of me and crimes against Vesuvia. You’ll be hanged tomorrow at the earliest convenience.” He delivered the sentence like he was bored. 

Eilen stiffened. She didn’t understand. The words didn’t process. She wasn’t fazed, still in shock, as the guards hauled her away. However, a pain in her foot shocked her out of it. She thrashed wildly.

“You can’t do that! I didn’t do anything! I’m innocent!” she screamed.

The crowd was torn as they watched her harshly pulled out of the stadium. It was split half-and-half. Some were eager to watch the hanging, some were morose. Lucio sighed.

“How boring.”

He stood up and went to exit when he felt a tight hand on his arm. He turned back to his court magician. The man looked stricken, horrified.

“You can’t be serious. She was innocent, I can tell. I’ll even be willing to prove it to you.”

“I don’t really care,” Lucio said honestly. “It’s about time we’ve had a good hanging anyways.”

He left the magician standing there, gobsmacked. The man closed his eyes, hating that he was bound by his oaths. If only he could save her… he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. The only thing he could do was hope that she snapped her neck instead of being strangled. He’d give her a blessing. 

News of the hanging spread as quickly as the Red Plague, and soon all of Vesuvia had heard the verdict. Their voices traveled through the air and water in a jumble. Julian swam closer to the surface, popping above water and hiding under a bridge. One couple noisily discussed the verdict.

“I feel bad for the girl,” the husband commented.

“Really? Our son was on that ship. She killed his best friend. She may not have planned it but she still took part in it. She’ll get what she deserves. Pirates hang, she should have known that.”

Julian felt his heart and lungs stop. Hanged? He sank back into the water. His mind was blank and filled simultaneously. Eilen was to be hanged. Eilen was to be hanged.


	13. All the World’s a Stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY I HAVENT UPDATED THIS IN MORE THAN A MONTH. And I left it off in such a cliffhanger too. That’s just mean. My bad BUT I hope you enjoy. This chapter is a bit darker than some other ones though so...

The day had arrived, and with the rising of the sun was the loss of all her hope. For the first few hours in the dark cell, there had been a tiny flame—feeble wish thinking that someone would inform her there had been a mistake, that she wasn’t sentenced to hang. But it had been exactly that. Wishful thinking. No one came, not even for food. 

Eilen beat down a hysterical sob that threatened to overtake her body. She wouldn’t allow herself to die like that—a pathetic, crying fool. She would stand strong and proud. She wiped off the sweat from her forehead, undoubtedly smearing dirt across the skin instead. She hissed through her teeth as the salt came into contact with the wound. Eilen dropped her hand to her lap and glanced at the brand they’d stamped onto her skin. The murderer’s mark. It was large an ugly, a permanent reminder of deeds she didn’t actually commit. She’d passed out once the smell of burning flesh had hit her nose, but they hadn’t even given her a bandage, so, while it had scabbed over, it still itched and burned like crazy. It was probably infected. The handcuffs only irritated it more. But that was the least of her worries. Soon, she wouldn’t feel any pin. She swallowed thickly at the thought. 

The guards opened the cell doors the second blue overtook the pink and orange in the sky and fully chased the night away. They yanked her up by the cuff’s chains. She felt something crack and winced. They ignored her and pulled her up all of the stairs. 

She ducked when the light brushed her face. After three days in the dark, the brightness was almost too much. Squinting, she looked for the wooden and rope structure, but there was nothing there.

One of the guards laughed and grabbed her chin, scrubbing it with their sharp metal gloves.

“It’s not here. It’s there.” He forced her to face away from the Palace and towards the sea. 

Her heart sank even lower as they shoved her shoulder through the courtyard, pausing just over the brigade and outside of the Palace gates. She glanced down at the streets where people flocked on either side. Some called for justice, some called for blood. For as far as she could see, the line stretched. Eilen felt her stomach turn and was tempted to upheave nothing but acid. 

She shouldn’t have expected anything more from Lucio, the most theatrical and grandiose count in all of the continent. He’d spare no expense on a hanging.

She wouldn’t let them have the satisfaction. She wouldn’t be degraded.

Her back was straight, her head high as Eilen was pushed down the winding cobblestone pathways. People booed and jeered and threw rotting things her way. The humiliation caused a slight flush to rise, but she’d dealt with worse. Compared to finding her ex in the tavern, this was an easy walk of shame. And like she said before, she would die with pride. 

Like a silver, shooting star, a fish flew through the air and struck her across the face. She felt the scales tear across her cheek as her head snapped left. Eilen paused in her journey, panting as she stared at the dead animal now at her feet. One red drop stained its silver fins, and then another. She grimaced as her sweat dropped into the four aggravated lines, seething through her teeth. Eilen turned her eyes towards the crowd, trying to identify the thrower, when a rough hand forced her head down. The force nearly broke her neck from whiplash. 

“Ow,” she hissed. 

The guard raised a hand in warning. “Quiet. Keep moving.”

She glared at him but bit her tongue as they walked her to the sea. The sky had faded completely from bright red to golden, the blue fully overtaking It. There was a cloud to be seen. In other words, it was a perfect day. Her feet dragged as they grew closer and closer to the edge of the city, Eilen instinctually cowering. She was never a religious woman but, at that moment, she wondered if this was why the sister chose the life she did. Maybe the devil really did come after all those who had done wrong in their lives. But if that was the case, why wasn’t the captain dead? Why wasn’t the count? Maybe the Gods had forsaken her for abandoning the sister, for having known that there was a different path she could have taken. 

If her hands weren’t bound, she would have slapped herself. Now was not the time to debate philosophy. Gods or no gods, she was going to die. 

The sun’s glare reflected off the waves and caused her eyes to close against their power. The gallow stood erect and tall in the morning sky, taunting and teasing her. So close, it seemed to say. So close to putting the piracy and it all behind her. She barely stopped the tears then, wanting nothing more than to let them dribble down her cheeks. This was almost too cruel—cruel to tease her with such a sweet view of the open and free waters as they tightened a ring of rope around her neck. 

But it was also a small mercy. 

As she watched, waves fall and form, a new thought made her blanch. Oh Gods, please don’t let Julian be watching. Desperately, she scanned the waters, trying to find any hint of bright red hair or a black tale but the choppy surf made it nearly impossible. 

Her entourage stopped just at the base of the gallows. From this angle, it looked like a performance stage. She’d only seen a few plays, mostly when she was still in Port Tremain, but she’d always felt uncomfortable by the fools that danced on the planks. Except, this time, she was the only fool and it was her last performance. She didn’t take her eyes off the rope necklace even as a hush fell over the crowd, and the Vesuvian ruler approached. She could feel his sneering and cruel gaze on her but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of scaring her. 

“Proceed,” he said. Calmly like a snake.

“Wait.” Eilen did flinch at that. Her captain stalked up to her, digging her hands into her hair and yanking it backwards.

“Any regrets?” she asked mockingly.

“I don’t regret getting on that ship. I just wish I would be here when you get what’s coming to you. The devil always collects his debts.” Eilen spat on her face. The sheer rage that overtook the captain’s face was worth the backhand that followed. 

Eilen laughed as the guards dragged her away from the captain and marched her up the steps, the wood creaky under their combined weight. They positioned Eilen over the trap door and placed the noose over her neck but didn’t tighten it just yet. Behind her, someone narrated her crimes. But she closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air for the last time, focusing on listening to the distant sea birds squawking and the waves crashing against stone. Sounds she’d grown to love. Sounds that gave her comfort. Eilen blinked once and then twice, an almost wistful smile gracing her lips. If you took away the searing brand on the back of her hand, the chaffing of the handcuffs on her wrists, and the gallows, this was the scenery she always wanted to see one day. In her dreams, it hadn’t been her last day, but at least she got to see it once in life.

For such a short life, it wasn’t a bad one, Eilen decided.

“Any last words, pirate?” the guard spat.

She spared the beautiful picture a brief break to look at him and raised a sardonic eyebrow.

“Assuming that ‘I’m innocent’ is a waste of breath, all I can say is that my life may have been short but I will never regret living it.” I will never regret it because I traveled the world…and I met you, Julian, she wanted to add.

She turned her attention back to the glittering scene as the guard walked behind her. She felt his hands, steady and sure, draw the knot tighter until she found it a bit hard to breathe. But it was loose enough that the initial impact would likely kill her. The more pleasant of the two options. 

Strangely, she almost felt serene. Unlike all her other near-death experiences—which, when considering how many had happened recently, she was surprised she’d lived even this long—Eilen didn’t feel panicked. Maybe it was because she knew that this was inevitable and that she wasn’t drowning. Maybe it was because it was beautiful. Maybe she was just delusional. She didn’t even know anymore. 

“For a pirate,” the announcer declared loudly, “there is only one ending. Hanging.”

The crowd screamed obscenities, but she still paid them no mind. She lifted her head, breathing deeply one last time when something in the water splashed. Her head snapped down to the waves. Here and there, there were faint hints of red and black. Her lips parted, and she sucked in a choked breath. The serenity faded instantly. The panic that followed was suffocating.

“No. No, no, no.”

“Eilen.”

Her name was as faint as a butterfly’s beat at this distance, but she heard him. She heard him. He was coming to get her. Her face crumpled, her jaw wobbling. Gods, please don’t let him watch, don’t let him see her die. She didn’t want to subject him to that. If there were any Gods above, please… 

Her name rang in her ears as he shouted it again, closer this time. Julian raced through the water desperately, beating the water like a drowning man as he swam.

She took a small forward, still on the trap door, but stopped at the tightening of the rope around her windpipe. 

“Julian,” she whispered. A single salty tear dropped from her eye. The white haired magician raised his head as the name passed her lips. He spotted the commotion in the water and ran forward, shoving through the crowd. 

But then they pulled the lever, and the trapdoor opened.


	14. Love Labour's Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a chapter bit overdue. Nonetheless here it is. Also, yes, I am aware I use "gently" and "carefully" too much in this chapter lol.
> 
> Warning: hanging and the Lazaret.

Asra shut his eyes when the trapdoor swung up, pausing in his tracks. It seemed like time had stopped with how silent the crowd was before it erupted into jeers and cries and laughs. The magician turned his head away from the gallows and slowly opened his eyes. He scanned the waters, but the flash of red he had seen before was gone. The water had settled. He swallowed once and then twice before finally looking at the gallows. The body swung in the slight breeze, and he felt sick. Someone touched his shoulder but he brushed it off harshly and continued to the wooden stage. He stood in front of her but couldn’t meet the dull eyes. His hands shook by his sides as he called out to the count.

“Are you just going to leave her here?” he yelled with desperation. Lucio stopped and turned around. He looked from his magician to the body and shrugged.

“Toss her into the ocean.”

Asra’s lip curled in disgust but he nodded. At least…at the very least he could return her to someone very precious. He wondered if Julian was below the surface now, waiting, grieving. He wouldn’t be crying—there are no tears in the sea. Asra stopped the guards from coming near her with a single hand.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

Finally, Asra looked up at her face. It had gone pale and cold, clammy. There were several tear tracks that cut through the dirt on her cheeks. He held out both palms and willed his magic to cut the rope and lay her body gently on the wood. The crowd had mostly gone by now, and he ordered the rest to depart. Kneeling down, he scooped Eilen up, one arm under her back, the other under her knees. Around her neck was already a thick black and purple band. He let her head rest on his inner arm. Slowly, he made his way to the sea. 

~~~

Julian had sunk to the ocean floor, eyes open but not seeing anything. In his head played a continuous track of his name, her eyes, the trapdoor falling. And the snap. He slapped a hand to his mouth as his stomach turned. His eyes stung with tears that instantly became one with the sea. Why? Why did it have to be her? Of all the gods, why? Julian felt faint. He let his eyes drift shut, his breathing slow.

“ _ Ilya. _ ” 

Julian jerked at hearing his name, peering out at the lazily drifting undercurrents. Impossible. There was nothing. There was no one near him. Was he hallucinating from grief now? Why now, out of all times, was he hearing  _ his _ voice? He choked on a strangled sob.

“ _ Ilya _ .” It came again. “ _ Ilya. _ ”

His hands flew from his face. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Julian beat his tail against the water, swimming towards the surface, stopping a few meters below the surface. It could be a trick. Through the choppy waves, he saw the familiar curly white hair and bright clothes and tanned skin. It could only be Asra, and he was holding something. Cautiously, he broke through the surface, a full tail-length away from the submerged stairs the magician was on. But he didn’t look at his ex-lover when he realized what he was holding. Seeing her up close—so pale and dull—was sickening. His mouth felt dry while his eyes watered, tears falling freely down his cheeks now that he wasn’t in the ocean. His eyes were drawn to the dark puce and black ring around her neck, so out of place and discordant with the rest of her image. He’d heard that humans often compared death to sleeping, but he’d never viewed it the same. The smell was off, the look was off, everything was too different. When Eilen had slept, her face had always relaxed, as if she dreamed of pleanster days. No, now, she looked like she was in pain. 

“Ilya,” Asra called him for the fourth time. 

“Julian,” he corrected unconsciously. Asra frowned, and Julian cleared his throat. “She couldn’t pronounce my name so I gave her the translation. It’s Julian.”

Asra nodded, adjusting her body in his grasp. 

“What are you doing Asra?” Julian, rasped, swimming closer until his chest was right against the step. “She should be buried.”

“Lucio said to throw her into the ocean, so I wanted to give her to you.”

“I-I don’t—”

“Yes you do, Ilya,” Asra prompted gently. He didn’t hand the mermaid Eilen’s body directly, but carefully and gently laid it on the stair. Julian reached out a shaking hand and brushed some sweat and dirt and hair from her forehead. She was too cold. Slowly, his long arms stretched around her, and he brought her to his chest, resting her head against the crook of his neck, keeping it above water. It was all wrong. 

“Asra,” he cried, “please. There must be something. Maybe my mark—”

The magician stared at him, a mixture of sadness, realization, and pity, and shook his head. “Your mark can’t bring people back from the dead, and neither can I. Ilya, she’s gone.”

“NO!” Desperation and anger laced his shout. “There has to be something. Anything. I will give anything to bring her back.” He cradled her head instinctively. “Please, please.”

Asra paused, fixing Julian with his eyes, assessing. It was almost hard for him to believe that they were once a thing, however brief and inconvenient it may have been. What the mermaid had felt for him was more than what was returned, and part of him still felt guilty. But messing with life and death, chaos and order, was too dangerous. He turned to the falling sun that winked on the horizon. There was one thing he could do…Asra glanced at Julian, who immediately recognized the hesitation.

“There is a way,” Julian concluded. “You know something. Why won’t you tell me?”

“There’s no guarantee. We may all end up dead. You should just bury her and move one, it’s not that hard for you.” Both Asra and Julian winced at the last comment. The magician sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that. But whether or not she is brought back, she will still die long before you.”

“Since I met Eilen, I…” Julian struggled to put it into words, struggled to figure out how to convince Asra. “I love her,” he finally said. “I love her more than I have ever loved anyone else.”

Asra was quiet for one moment and then another. Julian took the time to lull Eilen’s head back and search her face. It sent chills down his spine. He hugged her close again, vaguely realizing that his own body heat had slightly warmed her. 

“There is one method,” Asra conceded after several minutes had passed. “But you’d have to give up several things.”

“What?”

“Your magic mark. Half of your heart.” Julian swallowed thickly but nodded. “And your tail.”

He blinked. “What?” he asked weakly. If he gave up his tail, he’d never be able to go back to Nevivron. He’d never see Mazelinka or Pasha again. 

Asra nodded. “Your mark, you heart and your tail. The three most precious things about you. The ceremony is complex and complicated, and there is always the chance that it won’t work. Are you sure that she’s worth it?”

His gaze flickered down to Eilen then to Asra and then to the sea. Those waves were all he had ever known. But as he returned his eyes to the woman in his arms, he realized that there was more than the ocean waiting for him if he left. Julian’s eyes blazed with something the magician had never seen in them before when the mermaid finally lifted his stare. His family would understand. “She’s worth everything,” he answered, determined.

Asra closed his eyes. “Fine. The ceremony requires a bridge between the living and the dead, a graveyard would work, but Vesuvia has something stronger.” He shuddered and turned his gaze to the small island off the shore. “The Lazaret should work. Can you get her there unharmed?” The magician offered a hand outward, as if to take Eilen from her.

Julian swam out of his reach, clutching her tightly. “I’ll take her there. I won’t let anything hurt her…anymore.”

Asra opened his mouth to say something but a distant shouts shattered the peacefulness.

“Asra!” “Magician!” 

His jaw clenched but he started back up the stairs, pausing halfway up. “The Count’s calling for me. Meet me at the Lazaret at midnight.” 

“Asra…thank you. And…it was nice to see you again,” Julian said, peering at him.

He didn’t know how to respond so he sent the mermaid a small smile and hurried to the searching guards, distracting them to let Julian slip away undetected. The mermaid swam away from the hanging gallows as quickly as he could, never letting Eilen dip below the surface fully. He swam until he could barely see the outline of the raised city and made his way to the sand. He dragged his body up with one hand, using the other to make sure that Eilen’s legs didn’t get tangled up with his tail. With all the care he could offer, he laid her on the sand. Again, he brushed the strands of hair away from her face and cupped her cheek, rubbing a thumb over it. 

Why were humans so cruel, so prejudice and blind? 

He sat by her body until the sun fully sank beneath the waves and the stars came out of hiding to offer their condolences. Julian waited anxiously until the moon was high and bright, illuminating the Lazaret and drew Eilen once more into his arms, shuffling awkwardly back into the water. As he drew closer to the island, he remembered the stories Eilen had told him about it. Plague victims used to be burned here, a fire blazing for days. He shuddered at the thought. He looked up at the moon and sent a quick prayer to any gods or deities out there that they would let Eilen live again.

Julian circled the small island until the starlight illuminated Asra’s white hair. The magician extended both hands to him, and Julian gave him Eilen. He laid her in the middle of the black ashes that still remained, a morbid testimony to its history. He folded her hands over her stomach and then went back to the water, pulling Julian onto land. The rocks cut into his scales and his hissed.

“Sorry,” Asra apologized, dragging him over the uneven ashes until he was next to Eilen. 

“It’s fine. What do I need to do?”

“Lay down and hold one of her hands. There must be a bond between you,” Asra instructed.

Julian let himself lie on the ashes, feeling rocks and glass and everything else hidden underneath the soot poke him in the back. He took Eilen’s hand in his and interlocked their fingers. He glanced at Asra for what to do next. The magician looked uneasy as he opened the book on the ground.

“Close your eyes and don’t open them.”

As Julian let his eyes flutter shut, Asra began speaking in a strange language, foreign even to him. He felt the magic flow from the words and from Asra’s aura, surrounding them, tugging at things inside. It was uncomfortable at first, then painful, then unbearable. Slowly, everything, even his mind, went quiet. 

Asra all but collapsed to the ground when he’d finished performing the spell, feeling as if all of his magic had flown from him. Blearily, he scanned over the pair. Neither stirred. 

But then there was a twitch. A tiny twitch in the face from one. 

Eilen’s eyes flew open, and she gasped for air.


	15. Alas, 'Tis True, I Have Gone Here And There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I do this instead of my homework? Yes, yes I did. Did I honestly have to read the entire story over because I forgot the shit I wrote? Why, of course. Nonetheless, here is a new chapter that I hope is still concurrent with the overall progression of things and not too sporatic. I hope you all enjoy!

The first thing she saw was concerned lavender eyes and puffy white hair. She tried to sit up but he held her down, barely applying any force, and even then she was too weak to resist. Her throat was scratchy and painful, and it throbbed even worse when she tried to speak. Where was she? Who was he? What was going on?

How was she alive?

The man rested a finger to her lips. “Shhh. Rest. Your body needs to heal.”

She shook her head, not understanding. Her entire body felt uncomfortable, like it’d grown too big for her skin. Sharp rocks protruded into her back, and her tongue felt thick in her mouth. Slowly lowering her head back to the ground, Eilen watched the sky opening. She’d spent the last several days trapped below surfaces with no access to the night, but up there, shining so determined were the constellations. Unbeknownst to her, a small tear slipped from the corner, travelling down to her ear. But it was intercepted by a shaking hand. She frowned, at first thinking it a phantom touch, but, with great effort, turned her head.

Her heart beat so loudly, she knew he must have heard it. Her lips drew into a wobbly smile as she extended her own hand out to grasp his. She gasped as more tears followed, but these were happy tears. Asra stepped back to allow them some privacy. Eilen propped herself up on her elbows and crawled over to him. She cupped his paler than normal face, bringing her forehead down to his. She closed her eyes and sobbed silently. Eilen felt his fingers smooth her cheeks and her hair repeatedly, calming. Her eyes remained closed even as the heaves subsided and his hand stayed still. Slowly, her breathing evened out.

And then it was stolen away from her by soft pressure. Julian tilted his head back to kiss her, nothing more than lips on lips. Contributing his own strength, he leaned upright, cradling her to his chest. His other hand cupped her other cheek, bringing her back in for another kiss. It was so much sweeter than Eilen had remembered, delicate. They departed when their lungs’ nagging for air turned to shouting. Eilen rested back on her knees, exhausted and still confused, but blissfully happy.

“W—?” she croaked. Julian stopped her by shaking his head and pressing a thumb to her bottom lip, as if fixated on it.

“Asra said not to speak. You’ll hurt yourself.”

So she used her eyes to beg him her question.  _ What happened? _

Julian looked down and chewed on his inner cheek. How could he explain what happened? Did she know she died? What was the last thing she remembered? He looked to Asra for help, but the magician only gave an unhelpful shrug.

“Eilen.” He said her name and stopped, his tongue twisted. It wouldn't have mattered if he had something else to say or not because she sucked in breath loudly, her eyes focused on his lower body. Her eyes flickered rapidly between his face and his legs. Legs? Legs!

Julian glanced at his lower half, mouth popping open. Outstretched before him were very pale, very human legs. He had thighs and knees and ankles and feet and toes. He tried to wiggle the muscles, finding it harder than he had expected. His foot only twitched to the side, and Julian frowned. How did Eilen make it look so easy? He turned to her only to find she’d buried her face in her hands. Her ears barely peeked out from her hair but they were blazing red. He touched her shoulder but she only shook her head. She refused to look at him. Julian turned to Asra with the same implicit question only to find that the magician, too, had a slight blush staining his cheeks. 

“You…um…,” this was the first time Julian had seen him stumble over words. “You have human assets now,” the magician finally managed. 

Julian frowned and looked about his body again. His torso was the same, the webbing on his hand had receded and looked just like a larger version of Eilen’s. He had human legs and feet and…oh. He cocked his head and stared at the extra flesh. He stretched his fingers, almost, brushing against it when a thick purple scarf covered his lap. He looked up at Asra. The man only raised an eyebrow and looked down at his own crotch and then pointedly at Eilen.

“Oh…oh. So that is what a cock looks like?”

Eilen’s ears, somehow, turned even redder as she nodded timidly. She only lifted her head when Asra told her it was covered. She stared at Julian again, skimming his body, jumping over his waist, fixated on his legs. She reached out a reluctant hand, pausing just over the skin. He nodded and she ran it over his chins. He let out a sigh. It felt…strange, good. Then she travelled to his feet and brushed her uneven nails along the bottom. His body convulsed, the scarf almost fell off, as she tickled him. He laughed uncertainty and then happily at her expression. 

“So that’s what tickling feels like. It’s…weird,” he said, watching Eilen’s head bob.

However, their time was cut short when Asra hastily turned away from them, eyes on the Vesuvian shores. 

“We have to hurry. They’re doing night checks.”

“Where are we going?” Julian asked, sitting up. He made sure to hold the scarf against his body.

“There’s an abandoned warehouse on the waters you two can stay in for now. But the best thing is to leave Vesuvia once you two are healed.”

Asra helped Eilen stand first. She was wobbly on her legs but not too shabby for someone who had died earlier that day. Her muscles still felt weak and her head felt faint, but she could manage for now. Julian, on the other hand…Poor Julian had never walked before, so how was he supposed to know how to use the two new appendages? Asra had to hoist him up from the ground, which was no easy task. Even slouched against the magician, the former mermaid had to be at least a few centimeters taller. Eilen watched his muscles move with appreciation, glancing away when the scarf all but fell to the middle, barely covering his modesty. If she was honest, he was huge and in more ways than one. She swallowed at the thought. If she were to measure him, his legs would definitely be shorter than his tail but he all but dwarfed her. It wasn’t an appropriate time to be thinking about such things with her death and his loss of his tail and all the magic that no one had explained to her, but her mind wandered places. It was only when she heard distance yells and saw the blinking lights did she snap back into reality, recoiling and shivering.

She started to follow the two but stopped abruptly, blinking. It was inappropriate to think of such things as her  _ death _ ?  _ Death _ ?!oH Gods. Eilen touched her neck and winced when she reached a tender spot. Had she…? No, that wasn’t right. She couldn’t have.

“Eilen,” Asra called back at her, having settled Julian securely in the boat. “We need to go.

For a second, she couldn’t move. She felt herself back in the abyss she had been floating in before she’d opened her eyes, paralyzed and terrified. But Julian’s voice brought her back, and she hobbled to the boat, being helped over the side. Julian’s arms were open and waiting, and he pulled her in close when he got the chance. He rested her head on his chest and soothed back her hair. He couldn’t stop touching her. After losing her twice, the thought of letting her out of his sight again terrified him. He was also careful to not put pressure on his lower half, which he felt a foreign, slow-building sensation in.

However, the feeling was soon forgotten as the strenuous consequences of the spell and the constant warmth forced him back to sleep. Eilen looked up at his peacefully resting face when she’d realized his breathing had slowed. He snored. It was cute. Eilen reached up and brushed a piece of hair from his forehead. She kissed his forehead light enough not to wake him and slowly angled her body to face the magician. He was staring at them but not really seeing them, a happy and almost sad glint in his eyes. Why did he look familiar?

She made a guttural sound deep in her throat, wincing immediately afterwards to gain his attention. She gestured at him and furrowed her eyebrows.  _ Who are you _ ?

“I’m Asra.”

Eilen pointed at herself and then shook her finger at Asra, cocking her head. She also pointed at Julian.  _ Why are you helping me and how do you know him _ ?

“I am the count’s magician, but I swear, I don’t want to be. I have no choice. You know what that feels like,” he was quick to clarify, seeing the immediate look of distrust and fear on her features. “I was the one who delivered you to Julian. I’ve known him for a very long time.”

She opened her mouth as if to say “ah.” She used both of her hands to make a heart and then gestured between the two again.  _ Were you his lover _ ?

Asra looked at her in shock. “He told you about that.” She nodded affirmatively. Asra rubbed his neck, embarrassed. “It was a long time ago. We had a falling out.”

Eilen smiled knowingly and quickly shook her hands sideways.  _ Don’t worry about it _ . She quirked her mouth, feeling sleep also pulling her down, but fought through it to ask one more question. She quirked an eyebrow at Julian’s long, lean, shapely legs. She gently brushed her fingertips over the line on her neck, too, imploring him with her eyes.

Asra sighed and looked back out at the ocean and the moon and the stars. “He will tell you what happened when he is ready. It is not mine to share. I am sorry. But you should get some sleep and heal more. It will feel much better in the morning.” Indeed, he could already see the black and purple band slowly clearing away to blue and green. It would be a slow process but she would live. He still couldn’t believe it had worked. 

Eilen remained doubtful but didn’t argue, snuggling into Julian’s warmth and arms. One of her legs was pressed against the outside of one of his so that they were touching from ankle to head. It didn’t take long for her eyes to flutter shut and the world to return to darkness again. 

But they shot open not too many hours later, throwing Eilen into a blind panic as she tried to run away from some phantom only visible for her. She didn’t get too far when she tripped over her weak legs and slammed to the ground. Asra quickly rushed to her side, trying to calm her hysteria. She latched onto his arms, gasping and shaking like a leaf.

“What…what happened to me?” she croaked, feeling like her throat was rubbed raw with swallowed glass.

Asra gently led her through the abandoned warehouse until they reached a small table. He set a mug with water in front of her, helping her drink it. Underneath her, Eilen could hear the waves and the water. As her pulse slowed, she remembered the last even before falling asleep. She wasn’t in that horrible strange land anymore, she was in Vesuvia. There was no monster chasing her. Eilen put her head on the table, letting the coolness from the wood seep into her skin. 

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. 

“Yeah,” it was still rough but answering didn’t sting so much. She brought a hand to her neck again. “Did I really hang?”

He didn’t know if he should have answered her honestly or not, but he did. She stared at the ground, frowning periodically as if trying to conceptualize her very real death. 

“So I was dead,” she stated concretely but baffled. How did…? No, you said Julian…explain to me ,” she cut her sentences short to save her some suffering. “Place. Dark place - red sky, vines.”

“What?”

“I was in a place,” she explained slowly, taking large sips of water to soothe her aching throat. “Misty, water everywhere, tall black trees, reaching vines, red sky. I’ve gone to death and back.” She said the statement more to herself than him, marvelling and mulling over the fact.

Asra leaned forward curiously. Had she been where he thought she had been? “Did you see anyone in that place?”

She started to shake her head and then stopped. “Too far away, but dark feathers on human chest.” It was an unconfident answer, more a question than a statement. Asra sat back and contemplated. It might have been the Hangman’s Realm, but why would she have gone there? However, he played it off like he knew nothing. 

“I can’t say I am familiar with it. But Eilen, it is still early in the morning. Sleep even more,” he suggested, helping her up and guiding her back to the room where Julian was still contently dozing. He’d only been woken up when Asra had to help him into real clothes, but even then he’d barely been lucid. 

Eilen bit her lip. “Scared. I see things move.”

Asra helped lie her down next to Julian. “I can cast a spell to take the dreams away if that is what you want,” he offered. His magic levels were low, but he had enough for such a simple spell.

She nodded vigorously and thanked him, settling back. He rested a hand on her head, closing her eyelids and speaking quietly. Soon, she was out again.

Asra stood over them, watching once more. Julian had instantly gravitated towards the woman lying next to him, and he briefly wondered if soul-mates were truly at thing. Some magicians discounted them as fairy tales, while others swore their heart and soul to the idea. Whichever was true, he doubted that in all his years until his own death that he would find a pair that resembled that tether more closely than Eilen and Julian. Now with them each sharing a heart, there was nothing that could break their bond.


End file.
